The Lance Of Zaros
by Revan the Bold
Summary: A tide of darkness is rising in Morytania, and a rebel group finds an ancient artifact that may give them victory. But this weapon has more than meets the eye...Can a master slayer and a group of unlikely friends win the war? Should they? Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

The Lance of Zaros

**Hey, everyone! This is only my second story submitted to , but I'm hoping it'll be good. I know a Runescape story won't be seen by a large number of people, but the plot bunny bit me and I have to write it…Anyway, the people who do read it will hopefully be satisfied. Please review! Oh, and-**

"**Talking"**

**uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu is a paragraph break.**

Chapter I: A Slayer's Duty

The cave was dank, dark and reeked of fungus and the odor of a hundred different exotic creatures. However, Kyran MacTavish didn't notice any of it. He knelt before the woman in front of him. Though she was slightly shorter than him, it didn't detract from his sense of awe in her presence. She was one of the most accomplished masters of slaying exotic animals and monsters in the world. Her name was Kuradal, and he had been apprenticed to her for over ten years. Kyran wore a platemail body he had looted from the body of Guthan the Infested, and a pair of platelegs forged from dragon metal. He held the traditional helm of experienced slayers under his arm against his chest. His brown hair was shorn militarily short, little more than stubble, and his jaw line was clean-shaven. When Kuradal said nothing, Kyran finally looked up at her with piercing green eyes.

"Get up, Kyran," she said sternly.

A cold ball formed in the pit of Kyran's stomach. Had he done something to displease Kuradal? If he had, he honestly feared for his life. Kuradal was terrifying when angry. Slowly, he stood up on slightly trembling legs. "Yes, m'lady? What is it?"

For a second, the frown remained on Kuradal's face- then she split into a grin. "You won't be calling me that any more, Kyran. As you know, you've been apprenticed to me for quite a while, and you've gained a lot of life experiences in that time. In fact, you're one of the best apprentices I've ever had. That is why I believe that you're ready."

Kyran was unsure how to react. What was Kuradal talking about? What was he 'ready' for? He remained silent.

"I can tell what's going on in your head, Kyran. I think that you're ready for the mark of a master Slayer."

Realization dawned on him. Did she mean…

Kuradal reverently knelt down and picked up a plain brown package off the ground. She unwrapped it, revealing a heavy black cape with a red trim on either side of the symbol of a skull on the back.

"The cape of slayer mastery," Kuradal said, unfolding it. She reached up slightly and pulled the cape over Kyran's head. "This is one of the heaviest cloaks in the world, and with good reason. The duties of a master slayer are a heavy burden to carry- this is the reason that there are so few slayer masters in the world. So few have the courage, the strength of belief, the will to carry on. This is why you are unique among men. You have proven time and again that you will help those in need, those that live under the thumb of tyranny, those who are oppressed and forgotten. With this cloak around your shoulders, all will know that they may turn to you in times of desperation. You might never know peace; you may never settle down. Such is the life of a slayer master. Knowing all this, will you still accept the cape and all the responsibilities that come with it?"

Kyran never hesitated. "Yes, Lady Kuradal. I will!"

She smiled. "No, Kyran. Not 'Lady Kuradal' any more. You and I are now equals, though we may have different paths to walk. I educate apprentice slayers in the ways to fight all manner of creatures in this world, and you use this training however you see fit, but the fact remains that you are the same as me. A few years younger-well, maybe more than a few- but still the same. Who knows? In a few years, perhaps you yourself will feel the need to train the youth of the world. For now, though, you can do what you will. Go with my blessing."

For a second, Kyran stood still. He a warmth on his cheeks, and then he realized- he was crying. Crying. What did Kuradal think of him now? The mighty slayer, bawling like a toddler. He took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes.

"Thank you, Lad- Thank you…Kuradal."

uuuuuuuuuuuu

Adalyn's hood kept slipping in the driving winds that constantly buffeted her entire body. The decrepit ghetto of Meiyerditch lay behind her- if she had some morbid desire to look back at the horrid place, she would still be able to see the bloodthirsty Vyrewatch flitting evilly about the city.

Or, she would be able to in the light of day. The night's darkness was so thick it was palpable. It would be almost impossible to see if it were not for the small oil lantern she tentatively held out in front of her. It was a choice between stumbling her way in the dark and increasing her chances of being captured- she had known that the slight increase in stealth going without a lamp would be completely negated by her stumbling about, tripping over roots and rocks. Besides, the vyrewatch didn't need light to stalk their prey- they could hunt by smell alone. The thought that one of the vampiric demons could be trailing her did nothing to allay her fears. Still, she couldn't think about something like that- it just wasn't productive. She continued on in silence.

Soon, she came upon a large stone pillar, twice as tall as her with a circular base. Gasping softly, she slowly held out her hand until it was touching the granite. Surprisingly, it was warm to the touch- almost hot, in fact. Slowly, she searched the pillar until she found what she was looking for.

"The silver sickle," came a voice from behind her. Her heart jolted into a hammering beat. No. Impossible. She couldn't have been followed. Could she have? She slowly turned around-

And found herself face-to-face with a young man who looked no older than twenty. She breathed a sigh of relief. Not the vyrewatch. Not this time, at least.

"You scared me half to death," she said almost under her breath to him. "I thought you were one of Drakan's thugs. "

The man grinned. His brown hair, pulled back into a ponytail, swung in the wind. "Nope, sorry to disappoint you, Adalyn. Just Terrell. Nobody special."

"Damned right," she hissed amusedly, her fears slowly dissipating. She pulled the hood back from her head to reveal the slender, pointed ears of an elf, and wispy silver hair that cascaded rather than fell over her shoulders. She stuck Terrell with a funny look from her pale blue eyes. "Seren forbid you ever get a little careless."

Terrell grunted. "I don't see what the gods have to do with this. If they've the power to help us at all, they must have seen it fit to forget us, or watch in amusement as we fight a battle we cannot win."

Adalyn put a hand on Terrell's shoulder. "Don't say that, brother. Not all the gods are so callous toward our plight. In fact, my infiltration went better than expected…and I found something else. Something that must be a sign from the gods that we are destined to triumph. But the gates of Burgh de Rott are no place to discuss such sensitive matters. Let us meet with the Council of the Myreque."

Terrell blinked a few times, then nodded. "Yes, "he said. "Yes, of course. If you think it's a gift from the gods, then so it must be. Let us go."

From here, Adalyn knew her way by heart, so she extinguished the lamp. Silently, they moved through the slowly decaying city, into the heart of the Morytanian rebellion.

**Varrock, several days later**

Kyran felt naked without the armour he almost always wore. He had had to settle for a tight set of runite chainmail hidden beneath his bulky tunic. Luckily, winter was coming on, so such an outfit was nothing to take notice of. He sat in the Blue Moon bar with a glass of frothy ale in his hand, though it was losing more liquid to evaporation than to his drinking. Not that it wasn't good- in fact, it was some of the best he'd ever tasted. It was just that he hadn't come to the bar to drink; he had come to listen. Kyran had sat in there for the better part of a day, listening for a good lead as to anyone who needed major help. So far, it had all been minor- familial squabbles, petty merchanting concerns, runaway cats- and he had almost despaired of hearing anything good.

Then he heard a loud man speaking at one of the tables over to his right. A former military type, he knew.

He knew it because he himself had been a soldier in the Ardougne Special Forces- he could identify another vet when he saw him, or heard him, as the case was. Though Kyran was a vet, he was only thirty-one years old. He had joined the Forces when he was eighteen, and had spent three years there, before being honourably discharged and finding Kuradal. He closed his eyes and listened in.

"It's the vampyres, I tell you!" he said. "They're suckin' the lifeblood of Morytania dry! They've got people holed up in that slum Meiyerditch, where they take a helpin' of their blood whenever the heck they feel like it! Only one group of brave souls has the guts to stand up to the vicious beasts and their leader, Lord Drakan. The Myreque are the few that are fighting against the tyranny. But they haven't got much of a chance as it stands. They're outnumbered, outgunned, underfed, undermanned, you name it. So what I'm asking is- who here will lend their strength to these brave warriors? Who will take a stand against the rising tide of darkness?"

The man stood and was silent for a second, waiting for a reply from someone in the crowd. None came. He banged the table with both hands. "I say again!" he shouted. "Who has the courage to help the people livin' under the constant threat of death? Who?"

This was what he had been waiting for. Kyran had known about the situation in Morytania, and had often thought of helping the Myreque. Until recently, it had slipped his mind. He stood up, practically towering above the people seated at the tables.

"I will, sir. I will take up the banner. I will help defeat the Vyrewatch. I will help the Myreque triumph."

For a second, all was silent. Then, the man- who looked about fifty, with salt-and-pepper hair and a square jaw- grinned.

"All right, then, sonny. So you wanna fight the vampyres? I'll take you there."

**So how was that? Was it any good? Please review, and feel free to suggest any plot ideas that occur to you! I promise I'll update soon. Don't forget to check it out!**


	2. The Knight's Escort

**Hi guys. I'm back! Sorry for the long wait; I've been really busy with college. Still, I'll do my best to update faster in the future. Remember to review when you finish reading!**

**The Lance of Zaros, Chapter 2: The Knight's Escort**

**Paterdomus, one day later**

Not for the first time, Kyran wondered at the apparent apathy of the people of Varrock. He had been the only one to take the man- whose name he now knew to be Tora- up on his offer of aid to the Myreque. Then again, maybe it was Tora's fault- a bar wasn't exactly the best place to recruit able-bodied soldiers capable of aiding a rebel group. Regardless of the reasons, though, Kyran was alone as they journeyed silently under the stone walls of the Paterdomus temple. They reached a small room lined with shelves against its edges, and what appeared to be a translucent blue barrier that shimmered and gleamed in the dim candle light. Standing in the middle of the room was a wizened man in plain brown robes. Small though he was, Kyran could feel an aura of power about him.

"Ah, hello there, Tora," the man said politely, eyeing Kyran. "I see you've got another recruit from Varrock."

Tora nodded, a grin splitting his face. "Sure do, Drezel ol' pal. In fact, seems like he might be one of the strongest fighters I've seen yet. His name's Kyran, Kyran MacTavish."

Kyran wore no armour yet. He had planned to retrieve his items from the bank in Canifis. Drezel took a good, long look up and down at Kyran, then nodded slowly. "Yes, Tora, I believe you may be right. Saradomin will have many uses for him, I'm sure."

Kyran blinked. He had never really accepted the set of beliefs that Saradomin's followers seem to subscribe to. If he truly followed any god, it was Guthix- Kyran firmly believed in a life of balance. Still, it wouldn't be productive to deliberately antagonize someone like Drezel, so he remained silent.

After a moment, Drezel nodded, and said, "Very well, then, Kyran, pass through the holy barrier beyond me, and you'll be in Morytania, where someone will escort you to the Myreque's base in Burgh de Rott."

Kyran hesitated. "Wait," he finally said. "Isn't Tora coming?"

Drezel shook his head. "No, he won't. Tora is not a soldier, he's more of a recruiter. Both roles are equally important, really. Now, you really must be on your way, Lord Drakan won't delay forever."

Slowly, Kyran nodded, then turned to Tora. "It was good knowing you, Tora. I hope to see you again someday soon." He extended a hand, which the other promptly shook vigorously.

"The same to you, boy, the same to you! Now get going and show those vampyres a good what for!" He slapped Kyran on the shoulder, then turned and disappeared into the tunnels they had used coming here.

He took a breath, and touched the barrier he had seen before. It tingled as he put his hand through, which grew to a buzz as he slipped in his arm, and finally became a silent roar as he put the rest of his body in. He stepped out into a gloomy setting, with a grey sky and the reek of a nearby swamp- it was Mort Myre, he knew. He stood on a stone bridge about a hundred feet long, and surprisingly, he wasn't alone. There were around a dozen people with him, wielding all manner of weapons and armour. There were several with wooden longbows clothed in the hide of dragons, and one who had a type of bow he had never seen before. It was black and red, in the shape of a lazy _M,_ with spikes adorning its frame. The one who wielded it was a woman clad in black dragonhide armour, with what looked to be a strange brown backpack slung over her shoulders. For some reason, Kyran thought he heard clucks coming from the pack, but he knew it wasn't possible. Kyran worked his way around several people before moving to the front, where he saw another monk in the same robes as Drezel, and a tall man in gold-trimmed white armour- the protection of choice for White Knights and Temple Knights. However, the entire set was tarnished, with scuffs and scrapes disfiguring it. His hair was a light grey, though he looked no older than Kyran himself, and he was a less than an inch shorter than him. Suddenly, the man walked up to Kyran and shook his hand.

"Hey there. My name's David Stacks. I assume you're here to go to Burgh de Rott?" the man said in a lilting accent that sounded strangely like that of the elves.

Kyran nodded. "True, true. I've come to help the Myreque against Lord Drakan."

David grinned. "To destroy evildoers and avail them of their loot, eh? That's what everyone says, after all."

Kyran wore a quizzical frown. "Actually, I hadn't heard that part. I just came because I knew that the Myreque were down and out, you know, and they needed help."

David's eyebrows rose slightly. "Really," he said. "Well, it seems we've got a genuine paragon of heroism on our hands. How about you get suited up at the bank over in Canifis and we'll have you on your way to the Myreque?"

Kyran nodded. "All right, then. Say, roundabout an hour?"

David nodded. "Just so."

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

David looked at David in his traditional slayer gear with the black cape slung over his shoulder. As a weapon he had a spear that he had plundered off the dead body of Zamorak's favored general, K'ril Tsutaroth. It definitely hadn't been an easy kill. In fact, if he hadn't been fighting the massive demon in tandem with Kuradal, he probably would have lost and been killed.

"Wow…I've got a feeling you wouldn't even need me to escort me through Mort Myre," David said, the hints of a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I mean, you're a master slayer. I'm just a former White Knight."

Kyran chuckled. "Oh, I doubt that highly. Even my master said to me during my apprenticeship that in Morytania, no matter how strong you are, there's always someone stronger. Teams, even of two, are essential."

David shrugged. "Well, all right. You've got a healthy cache of food and medical supplies, I'm sure." When Kyran nodded, David returned the gesture. "We're ready, then. Off through the swamp, then." He took a few firm steps off the bridge onto the soft, somewhat marshy ground toward the wrought-iron gate that separated them from the swamp.

Kyran grinned and turned to David. "Once more unto the breach, dear friend."

David turned to Kyran. "That reminds me. There are several routes through the swamp, as well as several hotspots of hostile activity. We can take a long route to avoid them, or we could go the short way straight through them. Which would you prefer, Kyran?"

Kyran gave a look of mock innocence. "Me, fight? I could never do that."

David had to laugh. "You sure know how to make a point, so you do. The short way it is! We'll be going through the Hollows, and we'll have to travel by boat down to Mort'ton. Let me tell you, though, the creatures in the river aren't exactly lovers of humans, if you catch my drift."

Kyran shrugged. "That's perfectly fine by me. I'm not too fond of things that want to eat me- you know what I call those things, David?"

David gave him a quizzical glance.

Kyran grinned. "Dinner."

"Heh heh," David chuckled. "Well, good luck eating the shades that inhabit Mort'ton. I would love to see you try it. I mean it."

Several uneventful hours passed, and eventually they reached a black-watered river that was completely opaque. Try as he might, David couldn't see even an inch under the water. Anything could be lurking under the rapidly-flowing surface. Tied to a rotting wood pier near them was a rickety looking wooden boat about three metres long with a long pole attached, swaying in the current. David thought it resembled a gondola from hell.

"Let me guess," he said, raising one eyebrow. "Our transportation?"

David nodded. "Just so. I'll pilot the thing. How about you watch for, hmm, hostiles?"

"Hostiles, dinner, here it's the same thing. Let's do it!"

They boarded the boat, and David severed the rope, but instead of grabbing the pole to propel the boat, as Kyran thought he would, he pulled a strange-looking weapon out of his pack. It was a staff that looked to be made out of a fusion of silver and mithril, and on the end, there was a silver sickle with an emerald embedded in the blade. The staff and sickle were connected by a length of chain links.

"What in the name of Guthix is that?" Kyran asked. "I've never seen any weapon like it."

David grinned. "This is the signature weapon of the Myreque vyrewatch slayers- the Ivandis flail. But right now I figured it would be more versatile to use it as a method of propulsion."

Kyran scratched his chin. "It escapes me why you would need to use such a weapon when a simple abyssal whip or scimitar would work."

"Trust me, you'll see why when we get to Burgh de Rott." David pushed off, adding the propulsion from his flail to the river's own flow. This went on for what seemed like an eternity but was in reality probably no more than an hour.

"I have to say, David, I'm not seeing any of these hostiles you were talking abou-" he stopped talking as he felt a tremor from beneath the boat.

"That can't be good," he said to David, who was looking grim.

"It's not…In fact, it's worse than not good. It's terrible."

"What do you mean, terrible? What is it?"

Suddenly, four massive sickly green tentacles, covered in suckers, exploded out of the murky water surrounding them. The boat had stopped moving, which meant that something was holding them… and that was when a bloated mass on top of a spindly neck appeared in front of the boat.

"A swamp beast!" David shouted, throwing his flail down on the boat and grabbing an abyssal whip instead. "Kyran! Go for the head! I'll fend off the tentacles!"

The tentacles lashed about the boat, hungrily grabbing for Kyran, but David's whip was here, there, everywhere, slicing and slashing the writhing arms. David's flexible defense was impenetrable in the few seconds that it took Kyran to advance toward the front end of the boat where the beast's bulbous head was located. It had one massive eye and two rows of needlelike teeth in its maw, along with a black-spotted tongue that lolled behind them.

Kyran took his spear and reared back to thrust through the creature's skull when what felt like a two hundred kilo log slammed into the side of his helmet, knocking him to the rickety wooden floor of the boat. He quickly realized that it was one of the tentacles that had hit him- and it was pulling his helmet right off his head! The helmet's spines were stuck cleanly through, and pale green blood was running down over the top, through the eye holes, and onto the absorbent material of the face mask within.

"Aw, come on!" Kyran growled. "Where am I going to get another helmet like that around here?" He quickly flipped up onto his feet and slashed the tentacle his helmet was stuck in. He pulled the spines out and threw the stump into the water before deciding that perhaps putting the helmet on in its current state wasn't the best idea-so he threw it on the floor. All the while, David was flicking his whip lithely all around, distracting the beast.

"Come on, Kyran, we haven't got all day!" he said urgently. "Get it in gear!"

Kyran rolled his eyes. Hefting the spear back, he gave a mighty grunt as he skewered the head until his weapon would go no further. The tentacles, left to act on local nerve impulses alone, started to flail uncontrollably, then went stiff and plunged back into the murky water. With the beast's grip off the boat, they started drifting downstream until David grabbed his flail and got the vessel under control again.

Kyran sat down and whistled as he started cleaning his spear. "Wow, David," he said blithely, as if nothing had happened. "When you said 'hostiles', you really weren't kidding."

David gave him a wry grin. "When it comes to Mort Myre, I don't kid. Speaking of which, it seems that we've arrived at the entrance to Burgh de Rott!"

The river entered an underground cavern behind another wooden pier, which looked sturdier than the one they had departed from. Beyond the pier, across a muddy field with sparse patches of pale grass adorning it, was a simple wooden gate and fence. Kyran could see a large group of slightly dilapidated buildings in the gloom.

As they stepped out of the boat, which David had tied down, Kyran turned to his companion.

"Well," he said, grinning, "Let's go meet the Myreque!"


	3. A Different Kind of Life

**The Lance of Zaros, Chapter III**

**A Different Kind of Life**

Veliaf Hurtz sat on a simple wooden stool, with a silver sickle in one hand, and a cloth in the other. He was apparently too busy cleaning his weapon to notice Kyran and David enter the pub that passed for a base.

"Veliaf!" David said, carrying his Ivandis flail over his shoulder. "I've got a new recruit for the Myreque!"

Without looking up, Veliaf said, "Wonderful, how much training will he need?" He didn't sound at all enthusiastic- rather bored, actually. "I think that the recruits these days are getting a little more- wow." His eyes widened as he took a look at David. "Well, I suppose training is out of the question, then."

Kyran shook his head. "Not at all, sir. There's always room for improvement. For example, I can honestly say that if you gave me a weapon like David's, I would have very little idea how to use it. So training is always an option."

Veliaf chuckled. "Oh, he's a real dandy, David. Good on ya, son! You'll do fine around here."

David was about to respond when he heard footsteps coming lightly down the winding steps.

"Captain Veliaf!" an airy voice said. "Has David come back yet?" As the last word ended, Kyran saw a female elf step out of the shadows. She had a silvery hair that fell to her shoulders, and eyes of the same color that seem that look straight through him. She wore a loose-fitting black tunic cinched above her waist by a sash, with slightly baggy trousers beneath. Kyran quietly averted his gaze.

"Oh," she said, a hint of wry amusement shading her words. "Well, I knew you would bring a new recruit, David, but you didn't tell me he'd be so handsome." Kyran suddenly had an urge to be somewhere, anywhere else than down here. He willed her to stop talking. She didn't.

"That's quite the cape you've got there, _sir_," she almost purred. "I'm sure only someone exceptionally brave and mighty could earn that."

Kyran blinked a few times, then forced himself to look up. "Sorry," he said, extending a hand to her, "I didn't catch your name, and I don't believe you know mine, either. The name's Kyran MacTavish. It's, uh…it's good to meet you."

The elf raised an eyebrow and smiled silkily. "Well, _Kyran MacTavish_, you should know that my name is Adalyn Blackwood. But you can call me Addy." She ignored his hand and instead took a hold of his arm just above the elbow, almost possessively clutching it to her admittedly impressive chest.

Kyran's face turned red, but before he could respond, he heard Veliaf laugh. It sounded like someone beating a timpani drum.

"It's not nice to tease the newcomers, Adalyn," he said, a stupid grin showing beneath his black moustache. "Try to save the seduction for a few hours, at least."

Kyran noticed that David, too, was chuckling. Adalyn- even if she was being serious about this, he couldn't call someone he had just met by a nickname- joined in, a smile revealing perfectly white teeth.

"He was too easy to pass up, Veliaf," she said, letting go of his arm. "I have to have _some_ fun, after all. Where'd you find him, anyway? He acts like he just got off the farm."

David shook his head. "I don't know about that. Any man would be hard-pressed to stand stoic in the face of your wiles, yeah? Besides, Kyran here's an honest-to-Saradomin war vet, not to mention-"

Adalyn's face suddenly went stoney. "Big deal," she said blankly. "We're all veterans here; it's no great honour among us."

David looked slightly put off. "As I was saying, he's also a master slayer. Meaning he's most likely more adept at combat than the rest of us. We can scarcely turn down help, in any case."

Adalyn gave an accepting nod, then turned back to Kyran who was till silent. She looked him in the eye and seemed like she was about to say something, when suddenly-

-she jumped on him! She executed an astonishingly high leap, and came forward, causing him to take a steadying step backwards before tripping and crashing to the ground with Adalyn straddling his chest, her face only inches away from his.

"Oh, yes," she said, a playful grin on her face. "You and me, we're going to have lots of fun."

Several hours later, Kyran stepped into the strangely clear spring water that passed for a communal bath in Burgh de Rott. A few other men- and not an insignificant number of women- sat or lay in the winding river, holding bars of soap or rags, trying to wash off the scent of the Marsh to varying degrees of success. He sank into the water up to his chin, letting the tension roll off his shoulders. He had finally unpacked his rucksack into a small yet functional room that held two beds, both unoccupied. Folding up his clothes, he had taken only his helmet into the river, to clean the blood off. Now that he was done with that, though, he could finally afford to relax a bit. He closed his eyes and submerged his head underwater, feeling the grime and dirt wash out of his hair and beard. The only thing that could ruin this was-

"Well, hello there, handsome."

Damn.

He opened his eyes to see Adalyn already sitting in the water next to him. Without a stitch of clothing. Did she enjoy making him agitated? Probably. He forced himself to look her in the eyes, rather than…elsewhere.

"Wh…What do you want, Adalyn?" he asked, trying to keep his tone civil.

She made a mock pouting face. "Aww, you mean you're not happy to see me? I'm sorry."

He took a calming breath before responding. "Ok, I'm sorry. I'll…try to be nicer in the future."

She looked him over once, making him feel profoundly uncomfortable, then smiled. "What's the matter, Kyran? Never seen a woman quite as beautiful as me?"

Quite as beautiful…Maybe quite as annoying. Or quite as nude. "Well, uh…what can I help you with, Adalyn?"

She clutched his arm as she had done in the pub, only more…affectionate. "Nothing, Kyran. I just wanted to be near you is all. Should I not have come?"

"Look, Adalyn, it's not that I don't think you're-" he was interrupted by the ringing of a loud brass bell. Everyone seemed to look instantly toward the sky- even Adalyn had cut short her flirtations to crane her neck back.

"What is it, Adalyn? What's wrong?" he asked her, confused.

She looked at him with a grim stare. One sole word fell out of her mouth.

"Vyrewatch."

As soon as she said it, she stood up and gathered up her clothes, hurriedly pulling them on.

"Come on, Kyran!" she said impatiently. "Get dressed- there's fighting to be done, and unless I'm seriously mistaken, David had said you were more combat proficient than us!"

"Uh…yeah." He quickly toweled off and pulled his pants and shirt on before picking up his Zamorakian spear.

"That'll be worse than useless against the vyrewatch," Adalyn said. " You'll need to go to the armoury to get an Ivandis flail!"

Kyran threw up his hands. "From the sound of it, there's no time for that! If I can't fight these vyrewatch with my spear, I'll roast 'em with magic."

Adalyn hesitated for a second, then made a frustrated clawing motion with her hands. "You know what? Fine. Go ahead and try it. Follow the sound of the bell and get right into the fray." She dashed off, presumably to get a weapon.

Kyran took a deep breath and centered himself, then ran off following the ringing, which came from the east of the city. He darted past shacks and decrepit restaurants as the sound got ever louder. He jumped when he saw a black shadow glide through the air in front of him before coming to a halt.

"Holy Guthix…" he mumbled. What kind of abominations were these? The creature suspended in the air before him looked almost-_almost_- human, but emaciated to the point of grotesqueness, with sunken eyes that glowed red, and what looked like bat ears growing from the top of its head. The worst part, though, were the black, leathery wings that sprouted from the creature's back.

Suddenly, the creature spoke, in a raspy voice that sounded like glass being crushed.

"Where isssss it?" it hissed at Kyran. "The Masssssster needsss it."

What? Where was what? He had no clue what the creature- presumably the vyrewatch that Adalyn was talking about- meant, and he told it as much.

"You are a poor liar…" it rasped at him. "Tell me where it isss…or die!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Kyran protested angrily.

The vyrewatch growled in a low, rumbling tone, and dove at him, narrowly missing as Kyran jumped sideways. This…He was trained for this. He focused his mind on the vyrewatch, feeling a familiar heat in his veins. During his apprenticeship with Kuradal, he had injected himself with a combination of liquid rune essence and dragon blood. While the process had not been fun- he had thrashed about in violent seizures for over a day as his body tried to cope with the powerful concoction- it had left him with a nearly infinite supply of fire magic, without ever needing runes. He was his own source of magical power.

"You wanna dance?" he said, grinning. "Let's do it."

He sent a flaming ball of superheated air spiraling toward the vyrewatch, which should have instantly vaporized it-

-if it hadn't abruptly swerved to the left on its path toward him. Kyran maneuvered his left hand and brought the fiery sphere back around to impact the beast from behind, but it dodged again. It screeched as it fell from the heavens onto Kyran, locking the two into a grapple. He felt his hands grow hotter, his fingertips glowing red with spurts of flame. He was about to grab the vyrewatch's face when it seemed to lunge almost supernaturally fast, sinking its teeth into his unprotected forearm. Kyran let out a stifled gasp, then gritted his teeth; he had borne far worse pain than this during his time in the military. With his other arm, he put the vyrewatch into an iron-hard headlock; the creature took its teeth out of his flesh, trailing sticky blood, as it began to thrash and struggle.

"You're…urgh…you're stronger than you look, you know that?" he said through pained breaths as his opponent gradually slipped out of his grasp.

"I am as ssstrong…as the Massster requiresss, impudent human!" With one last burst of activity, the vyrewatch broke free and took to the sky once more, looping around like a lion circling its prey. Quickly, Kyran flicked both his wrists, and fireballs the size of grapefruits appeared in his palms. He hurled them like baseballs, one after the other at the creature.

"Sssurely you are not that foolish, human," his opponent said. "You mussst know that you cannot harm me with your pitiful magicksss!" It flitted around the two fireballs without batting an eyelash. Kyran said nothing, crossing his arms in front of his body, and the fireballs came back around , twisting and flattening into flaming red columns burning a scorched path in the earth.

"Idiot!" the vyrewatch turned its head toward the moving pillars as they moved in their twisting patterns, then darted between them, and faced away from Kyran. "You are truly a fine ssspecimen of human ssstupidity!" It turned back to face Kyran-

-and found itself crashing to ground under the crushing weight of his flying body blow. On the dirt, Kyran pinned the vyrewatch's arms under his knees and put the small red dragonmetal dagger that he always had hidden in his back pocket to its throat.

"But…how did you…you're jussst an idiot human! You couldn't posssibly have…" The vyrewatch was silenced by the ferocious glint in Kyran's eyes.

"Listen to me," he said coldly. "If you're smart…if you value your continued existence, if you have any plans on seeing tomorrow, there's one thing you never, ever take your eyes off of."

The vyrewatch squirmed. "What'sss that?"

His eyes flashed. "A slayer."

His dagger slashed across its throat.

Panting heavily, he stood up from his opponent's corpse, re-sheathing his dagger after wiping the blood off it.

"Whew," he breathed. "I can't imagine fighting off more than one of those at a time. Maybe I should go check out the armoury after all."

Just then, in the dim light, he saw Adalyn facing down a vyrewatch. She was fending him off quite capably with her silvthril flail, getting some sizeable slashes around the vampyre's neck and torso. It looked like she had the upper hand until she suddenly doubled over, coughing what looked like blood across her black tunic, and stumbled back as the vyrewatch viciously attacked. For a second, Kyran froze. If he didn't do something, she was going to die. Just like-

No, He couldn't think about that now. He could protect what was in front of him, and that was Adalyn at the moment. He charged at the ghoul, shouting an ancient battle curse Kuradal had inadvertently taught him. It looked up in surprise at him just in time to be slammed to the ground, crushed under his muscle. Kyran's dagger made quick work of the shocked demon, whereupon he turned to Adalyn, who was lying on the ground, her breath coming in short hitches and her eyes barely open.

"Adalyn!" he said quietly, putting an arm under her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"Oh…yeah," she replied. "I cough up blood every day. I'm…perfectly fine…"

He gently picked her up and wiped the blood off her mouth with the collar of his shirt. "Perfectly fine. Sure you are, Ada…_Addy._ Where are the others?"

She seemed too weak to be indignant over being carried. "They're…They drove off most of the vyrewatch…or they're driving them off now. This was just…a scouting party…that happened to come upon the town…Drakan still…doesn't know…exactly where we are…"

He eventually found Veliaf, wrapping a white bandage around his upper arm, over a particularly nasty gash.

"Captain!" Kyran said. "Has the attack force been driven off?"

His eyes were cold and steely. "Driven off, no. Completely slaughtered, yes. Fortunately, none of them escaped to tell Drakan where we're located. For the moment, we're safe." He took a look at Adalyn. "I take it she had one of her…attacks?"

By now, Adalyn had passed out, and was breathing normally again. "Yeah," Kyran replied quietly. "What's wrong with her?"

Veliaf shook his head. "We don't know. All we know is that it's not life-threatening- unless it happens during a vyrewatch attack, that is. My recommendation is to get her into bed- she'll be fine tomorrow."

Kyran nodded, and before he could think to ask Veliaf where her room was, he was already talking to another soldier.

"I, uh…I hope you don't mind sleeping in my room," he said to the still-unconscious Adalyn.

He gently lay her on the unoccupied bed, silently pulling the thin blankets over her sleeping form. Kicking off his combat boots, he sat on his own bed for a moment, then fell back tiredly. Definitely a hell of a first day. The light outside was already gone, and his head was throbbing like crazy. Time for a good rest…and as soon as the thought passed his mind, he was out like a light.

Sometime during the night, he felt a weight on his chest, and slowly opened his eyes. In the dark, he could barely see, but Kyran knew who it was instinctively. She must have woken up somethime while he was asleep and thought it would be funny to get in bed with him. Six months ago-hell, even two days before- he would have been angry, but now, with Adalyn sleeping quietly next to him, he didn't know what to feel. He had thought that he could never love another woman like he had Astrid- and he didn't, not yet; he hadn't known her for nearly long enough- but Adalyn embodied perfectly what he had loved about Astrid. For the moment, though, he was content to let her sleep…and maybe put his arm around her, too.


	4. Follow the Scar

**The Lance of Zaros, Chapter IV**

**Follow the Scar**

** I'm back! Thank you all so much for your great reviews, please keep it up! I'll try to get better at writing, too…This chapter contains a lot of Kyran's backstory; hope it's not too bad…But make sure to read and review!**

Dim, hazy light streamed through the window of Kyran's room, burning his eyes until he finally grunted and rolled over. He saw Adalyn's face and flinched. He had completely forgotten about her.

_What would Kuradal think about me now? _He wondered amusedly. _One night away and I already got a girl in bed. _Still, she hadn't really done anything untoward by the Myreque's standards…and it wouldn't have been Kyran's first time, either. The thought brought an unexpected pang of sadness to his heart, one that he hadn't felt for months.

_ Astrid…_

He shook his head. _No…It's been over a year now. She wouldn't want me to be like this. She would want me to be happy…_

Suddenly, in a surge of emotion, Kyran threw an arm around Adalyn and planted a fierce kiss on her sleeping lips. Her eyes opened halfway, still bleary with sleep, but undeniably amused.

"And to think that yesterday, you simply couldn't stand me," she said, her breath wafting by his nose, smelling vaguely of white chocolate and peppermints- wait, that was her morning breath? Kyran knew people who would kill to have sweet-smelling breath like that even _after _they had cleaned their teeth.

"Well, ah…I…I guess I can't stand by while a beautiful woman is in danger," he said, his face turning bright red.

Adalyn looked like she was about to smile, but her face turned ad at the last second. "Elves are empathic, you know, Kyran. I can read your emotions, and right now I'm reading that you're hiding something underneath that farm boy awkwardness, something so deeply ingrained in your mind that you'll never be able to completely forget it-something that I apparently brought to the forefront of your thoughts. My question is what exactly that thing is. Feel like answering?"

Kyran opened his mouth to protest, and then shut it when he saw the determined look on Adalyn's face. He sat up in the bed, cradling his forehead in his palm.

"It's…It's a long story. It started about…about a year and a half ago, way to the northwest in the Fremennik Seas, on a small island called Miscellania. Someone…close to me was killed because of my carelessness."

Adalyn blinked. "Who was it?"

Kyran smiled, but his face showed nothing but an ancient weariness.

"My wife."

**Miscellania, Fremennik Territory, approximately eighteen months before the present day**

Kyran sat in the overstuffed chair in Princess Astrid's spacious room, legs crossed. He wore a simple button-down shirt and a pair of fine-spun trousers.

"Oh, Kyran," she said, covering her mouth to stifle laughter. "There's no way you would talk to the king of Ardougne like that. You're so bad!" Her brownish blond hair fell to her shoulders in a silky cascade, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief. She wore a black dress with a cloak over the top.

Kyran grinned. "But I would, my dear. Especially after I found out that he had played me for the fool the entire time, getting me to do his dirty work for him!" He then snapped his fingers, as if he'd suddenly remembered something. "But enough of my stories about secretly evil kings. What say you and me go get a drink down at the Bronze Dragon? My treat, of course."

She gave him an amused look. "Trying to get me drunk, eh? Oh, well. I never could resist a cold glass of Moonclan ale." She hopped up from her chair and stood at the door. Kyran stood up, then let out a pained gasp and fell to one knee, clutching it with one hand, while his other hand went into his left pocket.

"Kyran!" Astrid exclaimed, rushing over to him. "Are you okay?"

"I…I think so…just…just let me say one thing…"

"What?" she asked with a mix of concern and confusion in her voice. "What is it?"

He looked up at her with a smile on his face and pulled his hand out of his left pocket, revealing an open box that contained a gold ring with a purple dragonstone gem encrusted on the top.

"Princess Astrid of Miscellania, would you deign to marry a common soldier such as myself?"

Astrid's eyes grew wide for a second, then rolled up into the back of her head as she swooned. Kyran quickly jumped up and caught her before she hit the ground.

"Astrid," he said gently. "Are you alright?"

"Heh…heh heh…" she laughed weakly. "You always know how to surprise me, Kyran. But…" she threw her arms around Kyran's shoulders and kissed him passionately.

"Yes, Kyran, my lonely soldier. I will marry you."

_I remember that that was in fact probably the happiest day of my life. Events happened quickly after that. King Vargas, Astrid's father, transferred power as king of Miscellania to me, and, though we couldn't find a priest to marry us at first-Miscellania was a small island, after all- we were as good as husband and wife. We finally made peace with Etceteria, Miscellania's neighboring country. It seemed like those happy days would never end._

**Miscellania Castle, Bedroom, Approximately fourteen months before the present day**

The sun had set about an hour before, and Kyran had finally finished the administrative tasks for the day. He sat on a padded sofa, wearing a thin wool shirt and a pair of fur-lined sleeping pants. He was reading a book titled _The Falador Principle _when Astrid walked out of the bathroom, wearing a loose-fitting night shirt and a pair of equally baggy pants.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look beautiful, Astrid?" he said, smiling mischievously.

"Oh, once or twice," she replied, sitting down next to him. "But it was usually when people were trying to flatter me, and I ignored them. I'll make an exception in your case, though."

They sat together for a time in silence, hands clasped together, Astrid's head on Kyran's shoulder.

"Winter's coming on," Kyran finally said.

She chuckled. "It never really leaves, if you haven't noticed. You're still getting used to living this far north, aren't you?"

He smiled. "Perhaps. I mean, I'm on an indefinite leave of absence from my apprenticeship with Lady Kuradal. She prefers more…temperate climes. But that look on your face tells me that you didn't come in here to ask me about my reaction to the weather. What's up?"

"Well…as king and queen, it would be our duty to, ah, produce an heir to the throne…So, I needed to ask you about your position on children."

Kyran swallowed and put his book down. "Children? I suppose…I suppose I never thought about it before. I guess I wouldn't be opposed to having children. But we don't need to make a decision right now, do we?"

She smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "No, I suppose not. But thank you for at least giving it a chance…So how goes the kingly administration? Any clerical problems giving you trouble?"

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Well, Brundt the Chieftain from Relleka has offered to strengthen ties with us. He says that all the islands in the Fremennik area should unite under one banner- you know, for the common defense, if we were ever to come under attack."

"So, would it be like we all became one country?"

"That's exactly what I asked. He said no, that it'd be more like an alliance between countries, promising that we'd help anyone in it under attack."

"So what are you going to do?"

He took a breath. "I don't know. I'm inclined to say yes, but I fear that someone less noble-minded than Brundt might see us as small enough to absorb into their country- like King Sorvott of Jatizso."

"But not Burowgar of Neitiznot? I mean, they _are_ neighbors. Might not either see you unfavorably?"

Kyran shook his head. "No, Mawnis is a close friend of mine after I helped him drive back an invasion of mountain trolls. I can count on him in a pinch."

Astrid yawned and stretched her arms out. "Wow, sounds like you've got quite a load on your plate, love. But you can work it out later. For now, you can sleep."

She stood up and walked over to the large canopied bed with black covers and red velvet pillows, seating herself and beckoning him to come over.

He smiled. "I suppose so. I've gotten perhaps twelve hours of sleep in the past three days- I'll not deny you." He followed her to the bed, stripping off his shirt and pulling back the top blanket. Astrid did likewise and slipped under the sheets.

Kyran caressed her bare shoulders, drawing her closer to him.

"Good night, my queen."

She smiled, then kissed him. "Good night, my king."

_Even then, it seemed like everything would go smoothly for…well, pretty much forever. _

_That's when it all started to fall apart. I found out that the dagannoth mother, the leader of a race of dagger-mouthed creatures who were the archenemies of all Fremenniks, was planning on invading Relleka. Not long before I learned about it, I had agreed to Brundt's treaty, so of course I had to come to his defense. It was a small task force that came to drive the dagannoths off from the mainland. It consisted of me, Astrid-she was a deadeye with her bow- and about ten other soldiers. I was relieved when we finally slaughtered all those beasts without losing a single one of our own. That was when I knew that we had to go kill the mother, or she'd start it all again. It was a daunting task to be sure, but one thing lifted my spirits-we had found a Guthixian priest in Relleka who could marry us…_

The air was thick with the salty tang of the sea. Kyran stood on the longboat, facing Astrid and holding her hands, as the priest spoke to them. He wore a heavy suit of red-and-black dragonmetal armour; she wore the tanned skin of a black dragon with her magic composite bow slung across her back.

"Do you, Kyran MacTavish, take Astrid Miscellanious to be your lawfully wedded wife, so long as you both shall live?" the priest, who wore the traditional battle robes of the Guthixian Void Knights, asked, holding open a green book that looked incomparably ancient.

He smiled, then looked into Astrid's eyes. "Yes. I do."

The priest looked to Astrid. "And do you, Astrid Miscellanious, take Kyran MacTavish to be your lawfully wedded husband, so long as you both shall live?"

She smiled, tears lying unshed in her eyes. "I do."

The priest closed his book. "Then by the power vested in me by the power of our benefactor, the mighty Guthix, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

Kyran squeezed Astrid's hands as they both began to repeat the traditional Fremennik marriage vow.

"Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

_We are one when together, we are one when apart, we will share all, we will raise warriors._

He fiercely kissed Astrid MacTavish, queen of Miscellania.

"About time, Astrid!" shouted Brand, her blond, occasionally thick-headed brother.

"You shut up!" she said, but she still had a smile on her face.

Vargas walked over to her and handed her a quiver for her arrows, which was solid gold, with intricate patterns traced on it in silver.

"For you, my sole daughter, the quiver that belonged to your mother. Let your arrows fly freely, for they will always find their way back to you with this sling." He turned to Kyran and pulled out a silver sword inlaid with a diamond in the hilt and faint red lines curving their way up the length of the blade. Its pommel was mithril wrapped in leather, with a strap on the end.

"And for you, my new son-in-law, I give my personal blade, _Aranar, _the Defender. Use it in defense of yourself and your kin with my blessing. Be happy."

Kyran took the blade and sheathed it on his hip, bowing to Vargas.

"Thank you…sir." He turned to Astrid and grinned. "Well, dear, what say we go give the Dagannoth mother a taste of our weapons?"

She nodded fiercely, and they sailed through the blinding fog surrounding Waterbirth Island.

_I remember, I was so confident then. So brash, I thought nothing could kill us. That day was a testament to just how wrong one man can be… we landed on the shore, where we had to fight through legions of those monsters to get to the caves. In there, it was even more crowded, but we managed to make it down a few levels without losing anybody. That was when we met the Sentinels…My squad leader, Jikdor, fell to their powerful blows, when Brand and Astrid said to go on, that they could deal with them. It was true, of course. They were both extremely skilled warriors, but…I should've stayed with them. The party- Vargas, General Thorvald, and myself- drove on to the Dagannoth mother's den, where we confronted her. All three of us were nearly killed in that fight, but we finally managed to bring down the beast. We limped back to the room where Brand and Astrid had been…_

Kyran spat a glob of bloody saliva onto the mound of dirt before plodding forward into the chamber. He heard deep, rumbling footsteps- it sounded like three pairs, at least, big ones too- and his heart was filled with dread. He looked at Vargas and Thorvald and could tell they were feeling the same thing.

"No," he mumbled quietly. "Not them…Not the kings…"

He dashed into the room despite his sprained ankle to see the retreating forms of three massive dagannoths lumbering into their nest. In front of them he saw two dead dagannoth sentinels and two prone forms lying on the ground.

"No…No!"he shouted, rushing over to the bodies. They were indeed Brand and Astrid. He didn't need to ask what had happened. He knew- they had slain the sentinels, when the Dagannoth Kings, three of the most feared creatures in the whole of the Fremennik sea, had been awakened by the commotion and attacked them. They hadn't stood a chance…

He took Astrid in his arms and looked at her face. She was still breathing…but not for long. Kyran was no doctor, but he could tell that she couldn't survive her injuries. She was badly bruised, with broken bones in both her legs and one of her arms, and she was coughing up blood.

"Astrid…" he said, stifling his tears. "Can you hear me, Astrid?"

One of her eyes opened, and she smiled weakly. "I…can hear you, Kyran."

He tried to smile in return, but failed. "Listen to me, Astrid, you're going to be okay, you hear me?"

Her smile remained plastered on her face. "We both know…that's not the case, love. I don't have much time…I just want to say that..."-she coughed up more blood onto her white shirt- "my time with you was…the best I've ever had. I…I love you, Kyran…so much…"

A few tears spilled down his cheeks. "I love you too, Astrid…"

Her eyes widened, and she took in a shallow breath. "I guess I'll see what's on the other side…" She turned her head toward him and beamed. "Good night…my King…"

Her body went stiff.

That was the floodgate opening for Kyran. Tears rained down his face onto Astrid's, and he lowered himself to kiss her on the lips one last time.

"Good night, my Queen. Good night…my sweet, beautiful Queen. Rest easy, my love."

**Present Day**

"I built a funeral pyre for her, and Vargas built one for Brand, and we gave them a traditional Fremennik cremation. We scattered their ashes into the sea, and I…I couldn't bear to stay there anymore. I handed ruling duties back to Vargas, but he wouldn't take kingship back. So I guess I'm still the king of Miscellania, just in self-imposed exile."

He looked at Adalyn, and saw that she was clutching his arm and smothering her tears.

"I'm sorry, Kyran…"she said softly. "I didn't know…"

He sighed and shook his head. "Well, it's just that-"

He was interrupted by David bursting into the room.

"Kyran! Adalyn! You've got to report to the Council right now! They've decided to fund the mission to retrieve the Lance, and they want you two to lead it!"


	5. The Hunt

**The Lance of Zaros, Part V**

**The Hunt**

Kyran and Adalyn walked quickly towards the basement of the pub that functioned as the Myreque Council headquarters.

"The Lance?" Kyran asked. "What was he talking about?"

"His name is Terrell, and he was my special operations partner. We were in charge of…unusual methods of obtaining information from or about Drakan or his organization. On my last trip into Meiyerditch, I managed to lift a sheet of paper that talked about something with the codename 'The Lance of Zaros.'"

Kyran gave her a curious look. "'The Lance of Zaros'? What, is it like the Godsword?"

She shrugged. "Hell if I know. It just had the name, and the location."

"Wait. If they had the location, wouldn't they have retrieved it by now?"

"You keep asking questions I don't have the answer to. If I had to guess, though…Drakan and his ilk are Zamorakian, so perhaps a relic of Zaros would be anathema to them. Whatever the reason, they haven't taken it yet, and that's good enough for me."

They climbed down into the basement, shutting the door above them. The long rectangular table in the center of the room was occupied by a group of six people-three humans-Veliaf, another man, and a woman-a male elf, a male dwarf, and-

"Whoa!" Kyran recoiled suddenly, seeing the table's fifth occupant. He was tall, wore dark clothing with a red cloak and hat, with spectacles underneath.

And he was most definitely a vampyre.

Veliaf turned his head at Kyran's surprised gasp. "You took your sweet time getting here, didn't you?"

Kyran said nothing for a second, then slowly scratched the back of his head. "Uh, sir…? Are you aware that, uh…"

Veliaf raised an eyebrow. "I assume you're referring to Alucard, and yes, I am in fact aware that he's a vampyre. However, he's safely in our camp. Alucard, if you would…?"

Alucard took his hat off, revealing strangely friendly black eyes and a fairly pale face. "Of course, Veliaf. As he said, I am a defector from Drakan's kin, and, though I do not worship Saradomin alone, neither do I revere Zamorak. I had always harboured the opinion that the oppression of humans that is so prevalent in Meiyerditch was fundamentally wrong. Needless to say, this belief of mine was not very, hmm, _popular_ with my dear uncle. In fact, he had me locked up for several hundred years before dear Adalyn here found me on one of her excursions into the slums. She helped me escape, and, well-" he spread his arms out in a flourish-"Here I am!" He lowered himself back into the simple wooden chair he had been sitting on before.

Veliaf nodded. "What he says has been verified. We-"

The dwarf interrupted Veliaf, chuckling . "Believe me, son, we weren't too happy about dear old Addy here bringing home a stray vampyre! Not at first, anyway. But now Alucard and us, we're the best of pals, so we are!" He took a long draught of the ale he had in front of him.

Veliaf cleared his throat. "As I was _saying,_ Booster, we- that being the Council- have decided that a strike team should be assembled to ascertain the truth about the Lance- if it even exists, and, if it does, why Drakan hasn't bothered with it. Alucard here is our ace in the hole for this mission- being a vampyre, he's nigh-invincible against the weapons Drakan might use. After all, his tactics revolve around killing human, dwarfs, and elves- and the weapons most effective against them aren't nearly as useful against our fanged friend over there."

Kyran scratched the back of his head. "Um, that's all well and good, sir, but, ah, why did you call Adalyn and me here? Terrell said something about leading the expedition?"

"Well," Veliaf said, "'Leading' might be the wrong word, but it fits well enough here. What I want you for is your combat ability and your command of battle tactics. You were in the Ardougne military before, weren't you? What rank did you achieve?"

Kyran snapped to attention. "Former sergeant Kyran MacTavish reporting for duty, sir!"

The elf clapped his hands together. "Wonderful!" he said. "So you know how to command troops in the field, then?"

"Well, kind of, sir…?"

The elf nodded. "Just call me Turen, son. We've no need for formalities here, of all places."

Kyran relaxed his stock-straight posture a bit. "Well, Turen, I say 'kind of' because while I did have some experience commanding soldiers, it wasn't much. The only real action I saw before I was discharged was the Battle of Sawyer, north of Ardougne, when those Saradominist zealots had captured and were torturing a group of goblins, and someone felt it was their responsibility to stop it by sneaking in and freeing them, with the help of a cave goblin named Zanik. The one man seemed to have things pretty well under control until Zanik went mad and started attacking him. That's where we came in- we held off the HAM members until she came to her senses. It wasn't much of a battle, really-more like a slaughter."

Turen scratched his chin. "You said you were discharged. Why was that?"

Kyran was silent for a second, then lifted his black shirt to show a large patch of scar tissue on his stomach. It wasn't the pink color of a new wound; rather, it was the dark red of one that had been barely let to heal over the years.

"Well, you see, sir-er, Turen-one of the HAM members threw a makeshift explosive in the chaos of the battle. It wasn't very powerful, being a home brew, but…it caught the tip of the shirt under my armour, and set it ablaze. In the time it took to strip my chainmail off along with my shirt…well, you can see. They declared me unfit for battle, and I received an honorable discharge."

Turen nodded. "I see…regardless, you have military experience. And as for Adalyn, we requested her for the stealth element of this mission. After all, it wouldn't do if Drakan knew what we're up to, now would it?"

Kyran nodded. "Alright…So who exactly is going on this…expedition?"

Veliaf gently rapped his knuckles on the oaken table. "That would be my area of expertise. As Turen said, stealth is of the essence on this mission, so naturally the number of people will be low. The team will consist of you, Adalyn, Alucard, and…"he grinned impishly. "Our friend here beside me. His name is Joel."

Veliaf tilted his head to the right to indicate the man beside him. He looked to be no more than twenty-five- definitely younger than Kyran, at least- with a head of shaggy brown hair that hung in front of his eyes, which were light blue. He wore a loose brown shirt emblazoned with what appeared to be a dragon pattern on it, and a pair of black wool trousers. He stood up and smiled conspiratorially at Kyran.

"Lance-Corporal Joel Matthews of the Varrock guard, reporting for duty, Sarge. I'm an expert in the crafting and production of armour and weapons, a bit of a woodsman, fisherman, hunter- you name it. Also, I'm an apprentice to Duradel in Shilo Village, so I fancy myself a competent slayer- though perhaps not as…competent as you. You have the cape, after all."

Kyran laughed. "Oh, I couldn't track a rabbit or catch a fish to save my life, so I have a feeling you'll far outstrip me in other areas." He stepped forward and extended a hand. "Glad to meet you, Joel. And don't call me Sarge. As you heard, I'm not in the military anymore."

Joel took his hand in a firm grasp and shook it. "That's fine, Sarge…Neither am I. Joined when I was eighteen, got out about a year ago. Saw quite a bit of, ah, _action, _there. Especially when those zombies invaded. Hoo boy, that was some fun."

Veliaf cut in. "You should make your preparations now. You leave in two hours."

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

They stood at the outskirts of the town. Joel and Kyran in particular looked like they were in some sort of competition to out-manly the other. Kyran had his Guthan platebody with dragonmetal platelegs, and his Zamorakian spear, along with his slayer's helm. Joel, on the other hand, wore a platebody identical to Kyran's, but with platelegs and a helmet made from the same metal. On his left arm he bore a circular shield forged from obsidian, and in his right hand he held a barbed red-and-black whip that he held coiled in his gloved hands.

Alucard, by contrast, wore no armour, and wielded only a pair of razor-tipped claws forged from dragon metal. When Kyran had asked him about the apparent lack of defense, his only reply was that he got his protection elsewhere. Adalyn wore the traditional garb of a ranger- armour crafted from the hide of a black dragon, with mithril-toed snakeskin boots. In her right hand she had a crossbow, and on her left arm was a strangely-shaped, almost translucent shield.

"Oh, come on, Sarge, a giant, unwieldy spear like that just can't compare with the speed and finesse of my abyssal whip!" Joel said.

Kyran snorted. "You only say that because you've never seen _me _using this thing. Seriously, I've gutted metal dragons with it. Try doing that with your little rope."

Adalyn sighed. "Yes, yes, you're both very virile, manly, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, and you could probably make all the women on the block squeal just by flexing, but could you please focus on the task at hand? We have more important things than your testosterone-fueled grudge match to deal with at the moment."

Alucard chuckled. "Oh, just let them have at it, Adalyn. After all, we all know that I am far and away stronger than both of them!" Two heads simultaneously turned to look in disbelief at him, and Adalyn couldn't help but laugh.

"Let's just get on with it," she said, smirking playfully. "The location the paper mentioned was a small hut to the north of the Barrows where the six Misthalanian heroes are buried. That's about a day's journey as the crow flies."

"What if the crow has a broken wing and has to walk?" Joel asked, deadpan.

Adalyn turned to him. "Then it's about a day and a half, smartass. Now let's get going- first we need to get to the town of Mort'ton, since it's at the Morytanian crossroads that lead to the Barrows."

Without fanfare, the small group ventured forth onto the dirt path that led to Mort'ton.

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

The day had passed largely without excitement- the group had encountered a pack of talon beasts as night came on, but the four dispatched them quickly enough. After the encounter, Adalyn decided that they had gone far enough and that they would camp out there for the night. Joel quickly dismembered one of the beasts and started a fire, cooking it to medium-rare perfection.

"Mmm," Kyran said. "This is delicious. I would have burned this to ashes…you're quite the cook, Joel."

Alucard nodded. "Indeed. How you managed to cook game this well over an open fire shall remain a mystery to me. I would wager that your skills were quite envied in the Guard."

Joel laughed. "Heh. The guys in the barracks would give me their rations and I would spice 'em up…for a fee, of course. A lot of the time, they'd give me some candied nuts or, when I was particularly bored, books and, um, ah, _entertainment pictures."_

Kyran burst out laughing. "Oh, you mean pin-ups? Girl of the month?"

"Hey, you have to admit-they _are_ entertaining."

Adalyn rolled her eyes. "Do men ever think of anything else?"

Kyran grinned and eyed her. "So are elf men any different?"

"Unfortunately, not at all. They just repress it a bit."

They all shared a laugh, and Joel poked at the fire.

"So what's the plan tomorrow?" he asked.

Adalyn arched her back, and Kyran could hear several vertebrae pop. "Well," she said, "while we'll be passing through Mort'ton, we won't actually be stopping there. It's a short walk to the Barrows from there, and, depending on the situation, we might need to get out quickly. We might be exfiltrating under fire. "

Joel grinned. "Oh, yeah! Now it's all coming back to me. Ahhh, bring 'em on! I'll take out any vyrewatch ol' Drakan throws at me!"

Alucard yawned. "On that note, dear comrades, I believe I shall retire for the night…though all I'm retiring to is a sleeping bag on the ground."

Joel sidled up next to Adalyn and grinned roguishly. "How about you, dear Adalyn? Need someone to warm your sleeping bag next to you on this cold, cold night?"

She raised one eyebrow. "I think not, _dear._"

Kyran piped up. "Yeah, that's what she has _me_ for!"

Adalyn's face turned red and she covered her eyes.

"Oh yeah, real fair!" Joel said. "You get to sleep next to the girl, and I'm stuck with Sir Fangs-a-lot over here. I'll probably wake up with a bite mark on my throat."

Alucard called from across the fire, "I wasn't particularly hungry before, but now I'm feeling a bit peckish!"

Joel paled as Adalyn and Kyran pulled out their respective sleeping bags and zipped them together. They took their shoes off and climbed in the bag, using their packs as pillows.

The fire crackled, warding off the darkness around the camp. Taking one last chance to kiss Adalyn, Kyran closed his eyes, and let the deep sleep of the weary overtake him.

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

"Damn, that town's creepy!" Joel said as they passed out of Mort'ton, heading toward the Barrows. "All those infected people…it just makes me hope it's not contagious!"

"Don't worry, Joel, it's not," Adalyn replied. "It's not. Besides, there's already a cure for that disease. It's called Serum 208. I actually helped discover it, you know."

"La-dee-frickin'-da, Addy," he replied, grinning. "'Oh, look at me, I'm Adalyn Blackwood, and I'm so much more amazing than all you peons.'"

She smacked him playfully, then turned to Kyran. "Have you ever been to the Barrows, Kyran?"

He shook his head. "Yeah, but only once. I found Guthan's body, and decided that he didn't need his armour.I know the history of the six brothers that are buried there, though."

"It's a spooky place isn't it?. You can feel that there's definitely something there."

"Hey!" Joel shouted. "There they are!"

Kyran looked ahead, and saw what Joel was shouting about. There was a vast area fenced around by a stone wall. There were six large mounds of dirt, each with a small wooden sign on it, giving the name of the brother buried there.

A shiver ran up Kyran's spine. "Whoa…" he said quietly. "It's just as I remember it…The air feels positively _electric._"

She nodded. "Legend has it that the Brothers were resurrected by Zaros in spirit form, and that they still roam the place, because they're guarding something deep within the crypts."

Joel chuckled, but it sounded forced. "You believe that old story? Then I have a bridge over the Lava Maze to sell you…"

Something deep within Kyran stirred, and out of his pack he drew a black metal sheath. He strapped his spear onto his back, and slid his sword out, holding it in front of his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"_Aranar,_ I don't know what's prompting me to do this, but…I have a feeling that in the near future, my kin will need protection. So I shall sacrifice my spear for you. _Aranar,_ the Defender, let us put ourselves between the clan and destruction!"

"_Oi,_ Kyran!" Joel yelled from a few hundred metres up north. "Stop talkin' to your sword and get a move on, huh?"

He rushed to rejoin the group, who had stopped moving in front of the gate that led to the barrows. Off in the distance, there was a small house, barely visible.

"Is that it?" Kyran asked quietly. "The hut on the paper?"

"Well…" Adalyn said, "There aren't any other houses around here, as far as I know…so we might as well get the infiltration started."

They stole away to the house, Joel and Alucard taking a defensive stance on either side of the front door. Kyran stood in front of it, waiting for Adalyn's signal.

"Now?" he asked, tensing in preparation to ram the door.

After a second…

"Now."

He dashed at the portal, turning a shoulder and slamming into it. The door buckled, and gave in. They ran inside, seeing a small living space and a hallway leading into a kitchen.

As they ran into the kitchen, they saw a lone figure, dressed in simple robes…It turned to face them.

No…It couldn't be…

"Oh," Kyran said, suddenly feeling dizzy. "That's-ugh-I believe in ghosts, but…Oh, that's just not fair…"

"Hello…my king," said Astrid MacTavish, Queen of Miscellania.


	6. The Lance

**The Lance of Zaros, Chapter VI**

**The Lance**

Joel took a look at Kyran, who was so dizzy he almost fell over.

"Did she just call you 'my king'?" He asked.

Kyran steadied himself by holding onto a chair that sat in front of a plain wooden table, ignoring Joel's question. He couldn't take his eyes off her- the brownish-blond hair that fell in waves across her shoulders like a waterfall, the eyes so green it seemed they were finely cut emeralds…

It was _her_. It was _Astrid._

But she was _dead!_

He turned his face down. "I…You can't be here, Astrid…you're…."

"Dead?" she replied, her voice full of the humour he had so loved. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Kyran, but you're not quite a widower yet."

He dared to look her straight in the eyes as he took his helmet off; his knees suddenly went weak. "But…How do I know that you're….I mean, that you're really…"

She walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder- it felt electrifying.

"Kyran," she replied slowly, raising her left hand, "Just look. Look at my ring finger."

The ring…it was the same one he had given her…the gold band with a purple dragonstone on top. It was her!

He couldn't stand it any longer. He threw his arms around her and pulled her close. He felt tears spilling down his face, but he didn't care anymore. It was a gift straight from Guthix- it was her, it was Astrid, she was _alive_!

"Hate to break up the happy reunion, Kyran," Joel said, raising an eyebrow, "but remember that we came here on a mission!"

Adalyn was strangely silent, with a blank look on her face, as if she was finding it difficult to comprehend it all.

Astrid was the one to break off the embrace. Still holding his hand, she looked at his three companions.

"I'm going to assume that you came here to search for the Lance. Am I correct?"

Alucard took off his hat and nodded. "Yes, my dear, you are indeed. We seek the Lance of Zaros to right what is wrong and topple Drakan's throne."

Joel looked at him angrily. "Oh, sure, go ahead and tell her our whole plan! There's an infinitesimal chance that she might_ not_ be one of Drakan's spies! You wanna tell her the combination to the Myreque Treasury Vault while you're at it?"

Alucard looked back at him, still smiling. "You forget, my comrade, that I am not human. My dear uncle does not use non-vampyre spies unless he's taken some blood from them, so he can ensure control. When humans have blood taken by a vampyre, a chemical called Tonrium is introduced into the bloodstream to mark that human as 'used'. It is highly detectable by the vampyre nose, and unless I have a case of the Sanguinesti cold and don't know it, I don't smell any Tonrium at all around her. Though, while I can see she is not a vampyre-" he adjusted his glasses "-neither is she completely _human."_

Joel looked skeptical. "So what _is _she, then?"

Alucard shrugged. "I could not begin to guess. It would appear she will have to answer that herself."

Astrid looked at Kyran, then back at the other three. "I believe…that I need to speak with Kyran alone. Feel free to make yourselves comfortable. You don't mind, do you, er…?"

He bowed theatrically. "My dear, you may call me _Alucard, _nephew to Drakan himself. And by all means, take however long you wish."

After Kyran and Astrid had retreated into an adjoining room, Joel clenched his fists and growled softly.

"Why does she want to talk to him?" he asked, sounding frustrated. "I'm much better looking than he is!"

Adalyn cleared her throat, and a perplexed look crept onto her face. "Uh…I think she's his wife."

Both Joel and Alucard did a double take, a rare instance of loss of composure for the vampyre.

"He's _married?"_

Adalyn scratched the back of her head. "Uh, yeah. Her name's Astrid. But from the way he told me the story, it sounded like she was, uh, dead."

Alucard sat down on the long padded bench and started cleaning his spectacles with a cloth he had pulled out of his jacket.

"It would appear, then," he said nonchalantly, his composure regained, "that Astrid isn't the only one to whom there is more than meets the eye."

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

"So who do you think she is? I mean, who she really is?" Joel said, poking around the cupboards, apparently looking for something to eat. "Sure, she's his wife- okay, his dead wife, or maybe not so dead-but who is she? Normal people don't build a house around a celebrity burial site. Or come back from the dead."

Alucard sighed. "I _think,"_ he said, "that there's more to her than meets the eye, as I said before. Must you continually beat this horse though it's long dead, Joel? Your curiosity is insatiable to the point of morbidity."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "Well, sor_ry _for offending your delicate sensibilities, Alucard. I just want to find some answers. And some food. I'm hung-score! She's got cookies!" He grabbed the circular jar out of the cupboard and opened it to find several of the chocolate delicacies inside.

"Don't be a pig," Adalyn said absentmindedly. Kyran had definitely said that his wife was dead. Hadn't he?

Joel came over, holding several chocolate cookies, and sat down beside her on the couch. He handed her one of them, then swallowed.

"What's got you wringing your hands, Addy? You seem stressed."

She propped her chin on one hand and distractedly took a bite of the treat. "I don't know what to think, Joel. He told me his wife was dead, and he wasn't lying about that- I could tell. I had thought we had something between us- but now…I don't know. I mean, if it actually _is_ his wife, then I have no right to try anything with him."

He grinned and put an arm around her shoulders. "Well, hey- you'll always have me, Addy!"

Normally she would have promptly smacked him, but as it was, she just sighed. That was when Astrid and Kyran came out of the hallway from the kitchen. Astrid looked serious; Kyran looked completely stunned.

"Damn!" Joel said through a mouthful of cookie. "What'd you do to him?"

Astrid and Kyran took a seat in two chairs next to each other, and she looked at all of them.

"I'm going to tell all of you what I told Kyran here," she said plainly. "You're not going to find the Lance. It's-"

"What?" Joel interrupted. "Whaddya mean we're not gonna find it? The paper said-"

"As I was saying…"

"Joel."

"As I was saying, Joel, you're not going to find the Lance here, because it's not a traditional weapon, like a sword or a bow. If you want to know the truth…"

She took a deep breath. "I _am _the Lance of Zaros."

There was a beat of silence.

"Huh?" That came from Joel, who had finally stopped scarfing down cookies.

"As I said. I am the Lance of Zaros."

After a second, Alucard nodded. "Might I ask exactly what that is?"

Astrid was silent for a moment, as if she was rehearsing something in her mind. "When you said I wasn't completely human, you were correct. I am a living weapon, created by Zaros himself. I exist because of him, though what his final purpose for me is I do not know."

Joel began to laugh. "Oh, man! You really had me going there for a second! The Lance of Zaros! That's a good one! If I didn't know better, I'd say you were off your rock-"

"Ssshhh," Alucard interrupted, suddenly serious. "I would not respond so lightly to such statements if I were you, Joel."

"But…you can't be serious! Zaros has been banished from Gielinor for thousands of years; he couldn't possibly-"

"But he could. You know not the full power of a god you have never seen." He turned back to Astrid. "If what you say is true…then how old are you? You must be at least six hundred years old, at the very least. The last significant movement of Zarosians - and the movements of followers generally parallel the movements of their gods- was over four hundred years before this age began. That would seem to indicate something important was afoot. I'd be willing to wager that all that fuss was over you. Wasn't it?"

Astrid seemed genuinely at a loss for words. "How did…that's….you're right. You have…quite an intuition, Alucard. As of Pentumber, I'll be exactly six hundred seventeen years old."

Joel promptly choked. "Six…six hundred seventeen?" He turned to Adalyn. "She's gotta be lying! She can't possibly be that old, right?"

She shook her head. "She's not lying, Joel. She really is as old as she says."

Alucard began to grin coldly. "Now it's all coming together," he said. "Drakan didn't come here to retrieve the Lance because he's _afraid of it._ What are you, to cause my uncle- my fearsome, terrifying uncle- to quake in fear at the thought of facing you?"

Astrid looked down for a moment, then began to speak, but was cut off by Joel, who was looking out the window.

"You might want to save the explanation for later, Astrid…We've got trouble outside!"

Everyone crowded around the window, and Kyran's gut churned at what he saw.

Outside, in the gloom surrounding the tombs of the Brothers, was a small army of humans and vampyres. They were sitting, standing, milling around- but every single one of them looked feral as a wild cat, and twice as dangerous. There must have been at least a hundred of them. Suddenly, one of the vampyres strutted forward arrogantly, holding…

Oh-

Oh no.

"Is that…" Joel began to ask.

Kyran nodded. "Yeah. Yeah it is. He's carrying the Godsword. They…must want you worse than you thought, Astrid."

Joel looked incredulously at Alucard. "I thought you said they were _scared_ of her!"

Alucard adjusted his glasses silently. "They were-they are. But we are an unexpected factor in the equation. They're still scared of her…but they're more scared of the possibility that _we _might take her. We've forced them into action."

A thought froze Adalyn's gut. "This was a secret mission…" she said slowly. "A very small number of people even knew about it…and yet they somehow managed to find us within hours of our arrival."

Kyran grimaced. "Then it's-"

"Hey!" Joel interrupted. "We've got more important things than that right now. Like the _vampyre _ holding…oh…you know…_just the weapon that the entire God Wars were fought over!"_

Alucard slowly nodded. "The question, then, is what we should do now."

"I think he's about to answer that for us," Joel said.

"Attention, humans!" the vampyre holding the Godsword shouted, standing in front of the door. "By decree of the revered Lord Drakan, the weapon in this abode belongs to the industrious Empire! You shall bring the weapon outside, and relinquish it to me, Calevmir, his majesty's trusted aide; in return, you will not be taken as servants. Instead, your deaths will be quick and painless. You have ten minutes to comply with this demand!"

"Oh! Wonderful!" Joel said, throwing his hands up. "You hear that? They're going to make our deathsquick _and_ painless. Oh, that's amazing. I would have settled for just one!"

Kyran had his hands in his hands. Astrid's eyes were closed; she looked deep in thought.

"What…what do we do?" Adalyn finally said. "Is there a back door that we can slip out, or…"

"No," Astrid replied emotionlessly. "They'd likely have the place surrounded. Trying to get away would only anger them further."

"Then what do we do?" Adalyn shot back. "I don't know about you, but I don't particularly want to die here. So what, do we-"

"We're going out there."

Adalyn was stunned. "Wh…What? Are you crazy? I don't want to surrender to them, Astrid! We need to-"

"We're not surrendering. We're going to fight them."

Adalyn looked dumbstruck for a second, then covered her eyes with her hand. "You know what? Maybe you _are_ crazy. You'd have to be to want to fight someone who has the Guthix-damned _Godsword!"_

Astrid turned to look at her, a fierce fire in her eyes surprising Adalyn.

"They have the Godsword," she said quietly. "But we have the Lance. We have _me._"

Kyran sighed after a second. "Okay, Astrid…but _how?_ How do we fight?"

"Give me your hands, Kyran. Like on the boat. Before we went to Waterbirth."

A look of distant pain passed through Kyran's eyes, then he did as she said after turning to face her.

Suddenly, the air took on a strange scent- it smelled of wild roses and blood. A faint wind began to swirl around the two of them, and Kyran began to look confused.

"Astrid… What's going o-"

"The wind," Astrid said, her eyes closed, her face serene. "The wind that connects us, that swirls between us, and the ancient power which the world has long forgotten…Let there be a virginal field of white snow, where the past is remembered, yet forgotten. With eyes like ice…"

She opened her eyes, which had changed from green to a pale blue.

"Bind us together!" she practically shouted. Kyran instantly felt like cold fire was pouring through his veins, burning and freezing at the same time. At the same time, he felt something attach to his arms and his back, but all he saw was a swirling vortex of rose petals. For a second, everything went black.

When he came to, he was standing in the middle of the room, and everyone was staring in disbelief at him. He looked down, and what he saw shocked him.

His torso was covered in obsidian-black armour with a light purple trim running around the shoulder plates and waist. In the center was an equidistant cross inscribed on a circle. His legs were covered by interwoven metal plates of the same colour. Hanging off his back was a white cloak with the same symbol as the chest and a gold trim around the edges. However, his arms were what stunned him the most.

Both his arms were covered from elbow to wrist in a chain mesh covered in black cloth, with dark purple fingerless gloves on his hands. On his right arm was a long, wide white metal blade that extended over the back of his hand. It looked more suited to stabbing than slashing, something in the back of Kyran's mind catalogued. In his left hand was a medium-sized black dagger, about twice as big as the defenders that the Warriors Guild used.

"Wh…What is this?" he finally managed to stutter. "Astrid, what's going on?"

_This is what I am. I am designed to bond with a single person and be their weapon._

Kyran took an involuntary step back. "Astrid? Where are you? I can hear you…"

_Kyran, I'm the armour you're wearing. I'm the blade you're wielding. This is why Father gave you _Aranar. _It's actually a part of me._

"Uh, Kyran?" Joel said with an odd look on his face. "Where'd Astrid go? And…who are you talking to?"

There was a pounding on the door.

"The time given has been rescinded!" the vampyre imperiously shouted. "You will surrender the weapon now, or face the wrath of the Morytanian Empire!"

Barely-contained flame pulsed through Kyran's veins. For reasons he couldn't begin to understand, a manic grin formed on his face.

"So they want us to come outside, do they?" He turned to Adalyn, Joel and Alucard. "I say we give 'em what they want! Do you think you can hold off the rest of them while I take out the leader?"

Joel's jaw dropped, and then he sighed after a second. "You know what? Fine. I always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. I'll keep 'em at bay for as long as I can."

Alucard nodded. "As will I."

After a second, Adalyn exhaled a breath. "Then I will, too."

Kyran's grin widened. "_Kita!"_

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Growling the vampyre pounded on the door once again. "This is the last warning you will receive! If you do not-"

"Oi! Calevmir!" another vampyre said. "They ain't gonna open up! I say we bust down the door and slot the lot of 'em!"

Calevmir scowled. "That's not how the Empire functions, Gorthalon. We have to give them at least some warning, or-"

"We've already given them enough warnings! They know what's comin', so we might as well get on with it!"

After a second, Calevmir grunted a reluctant agreement. They had been given sufficient warning, had they not? He reached to try to open the door, when there was a strange rumbling behind it, and he got the strangest feeling that he definitely shouldn't touch it…

His danger sense flared. "Everyone! Down!" he shouted before throwing himself face-down onto the ground, the Godsword beside him.

Suddenly, the door frame exploded outward in a violent shower of splinters and chunks of wood, along with a swirling cloud of dust.

Calevmir leapt to his feet, clutching his sword tightly in two hands.

His brain had a hard time processing what he saw. A human, clad in black and purple armor, with a sword extending about a foot beyond the back of his hand on his right arm. The sheer_ will _the human was exuding was so strong it was almost palpable. It was the simple, distilled _sure-okay-why-not-let's-FIGHT _instinct present in all living beings, refined to a ridiculous degree.

"Everyone!"Calevmir shouted after finding his voice. "Focus on that man! Kill him at all costs!"

"Ah-ah-ah," he heard as another human emerged. He wasn't as intimidating as the first, but he was definitely a seasoned warrior. In his hands he held a massive spear, of the type that K'ril Tsutaroth was supposed to have used.

"You want to get to him, vampyre?" the human said, grinning. "_You _can, by all means. The others, though…they'll have to go through us."

"_Us?"_ Calevmir said. "There's only one of you!"

"Not quite," said two voices simultaneously. Out of the door stepped a female elf and-

"You!" Calevmir shouted. "You're that traitor, Alucard! You coward!"

Alucard raised a hand. "Guilty as charged," he said cheerily. Calevmir blinked and-

-within the space of a second, Alucard was right in front of him, his red claws touching the soft tissue of his throat.

"You're not my target," Alucard said, smiling as always. "I'll leave _you _for my friend, Kyran, over there."

Alucard, the elf, and the human with the spear surrounded Kyran in a wide circle, leaving an open area between him and Calevmir.

Kyran finally spoke, a look of determination on his face.

"For the clan."

UUUUUUUUUUUUU

"_HAAAAAAAAAA!"_

Kyran dashed towards the Calevmir, his sword arm behind him. He leapt up and directed an overhead slash at him. He brought the Godsword up and blocked the hasty attack. Kyran landed solidly on the marshy ground about a foot away from him, when he saw Calevmir swing his weapon in a long arc. He flattened himself on the ground as Calevmir lost his footing after missing with such a heavy weapon. He quickly tried to compensate, but Kyran quickly swept one of his legs off the ground, and he toppled to the ground on his back, losing his grip on the Godsword.

Kyran grinned and tried to get on top of Calevmir, but found himself on bottom as his opponent wrestled violently with him. His arms were pinned beneath the vampyre's knees and he found himself staring into Calevmir's evil grinning face.

"Not so tough, are ya, human? What are you going to do now, bleed on me-"

His gloating was cut short as Kyran slammed a knee into his lower back, momentarily paralyzing him. He keeled over onto the ground.

_Kyran! Your hands! _Astrid said.

He took advantage of the momentary reprieve to do as she said. The sword he had before was gone- instead, there were deep black gauntlets covering his hands.

"What?' he said. "The sword! It…"

_That's what the Lance does, Kyran. It changes to suit your needs in combat. If you're going toe-to-toe with Calevmir, some unbreakable gauntlets should help._

Kyran nodded, then leapt up. Calevmir had recovered, and had picked up the Godsword. He was back in a defensive stance as Kyran swayed like a palm tree.

"Want some?" he said, grinning. "Come and get it!" He stole into Calevmir's personal space and threw a few right jabs, all of which were blocked by his Godsword. After a second, Kyran spotted a gap in the vampyre's defense and smashed his left fist into Calevmir's chest. To his credit, he didn't fall over- he stood his ground.

Suddenly, Calevmir turned the Godsword downward and stabbed it into the ground, up to its hilt. Kyran suddenly felt his feet glued to the ground- no matter how hard he strained his legs, his feet remained firmly planted in the same spot. Calevmir grinned as he moved around just out of his reach. Out of nowhere, he dashed at Kyran and smashed his right fist into the side of his head. Darkness nibbled at the edges of his vision- he forced them back through an iron will.

_Astrid! I need a whip!_

His right gauntlet morphed into a black whip made of woven cables that was about three-fourths the length of his body uncoiled. He flicked it at Calevmir, wrapping it around his neck and dragging him into melee range again. He pulled his body up and threw him onto the ground. He put his hands together and a massive black maul formed. He drew back and slammed the heavy weapon down-

-when Calevmir shot a small dart from a loaded spring around his wrist. It hit Kyran in the upper forearm, and he stifled a gasp of pain. He would have let go of the maul had Astrid not suddenly reinforced his grip.

_Kyran! The dart was poisoned!_

He could instantly feel the truth of her statement. A numbing sensation crept across his arms and up towards his chest…

_What do I do? _he frantically asked.

_I can burn the poison out of your bloodstream, but it'll take a second to work. You'll have to keep him from attacking, even for just a moment!_

He nodded as Calevmir jumped to his feet and pulled the Godsword's blade out of the ground. He swung it in a wide overhead arc, aimed at splitting Kyran's head in two-

-as Kyran blocked his strike with one of his gauntlets. It felt like his hand was broken, but it stopped the slash. Calevmir lost his footing-

_That's the opening! _Kyran said. _Now, Astrid!_

_ Got it! _She replied. _But it won't be pleasant…_

She was right. A cold fire burned through Kyran's whole body, searing his nerves raw. After a split second, it was over, and Kyran quickly pulled the dart out of his arm.

Calevmir regained his stance, but Kyran was all over him, punching right and left, blocking the vampyre's attack routes, before he threw him to the ground and stood over him, his right gauntlet morphing back into _Aranar_.

"Wait!" Calevmir stammered. "Wait, I beg of you! Spare my life!"

Kyran leaned over him. "You threatened my kin. That is the one sin I will not forgive."

Calevmir's face grew even paler. "No, wait, I-"

His final words were cut off by a sword through his heart.

Kyran stared emotionlessly at his body. "A false warrior indeed."

** So how was that? Any good? Sorry I suck at writing action scenes. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Make sure to read and review!**


	7. The New Recruits

The Lance of Zaros, Chapter VII

The New Recruits

Standing over Calevmir's dead body, Kyran's vision suddenly began to blur and spin. A gnawing pain exploded in his stomach, and he doubled over, then fell to his knees. Each breath was suddenly a monumental task that took all his energy to complete.

"This…" he managed to choke out, "is…not a weapon…for mortals to use…This…is truly… a weapon…of the gods…" He finally slumped over, unconscious.

Kyran!

The black armour protecting him dissolved into a fine mist, and coalesced into Astrid once again. She knelt down beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Kyran!" she exclaimed, shaking him vigorously. "Are you alright? Kyran!"

She punched the soft ground in frustration. "Damn! I should have known that it would be too much to handle…I'm sorry…"

UUUUUUUUUUUUU

Joel grunted with the effort of swinging the massive spear that Kyran had given him in a long arc, separating the heads of three vampyres from their bodies. No matter how many corpses lay at his feet, though, it seemed as if two more replaced every single one.

"Hate to say it, Alucard, but-"he stabbed an enemy through the skull- "I don't think we're going to be able to take 'em all down by ourselves!"

"We don't need to!" Alucard replied, stabbing a human through the underside of his chin. "All we need to do is delay them long enough for me to set off the charges!"

"Set off the what?"

"The charges! I can't explain right now- just hold them off as long as you can!"

As Joel shrugged, Alucard danced around another opponent and pulled a half-foot long silver stake from his pocket, stomping it into the ground. It trailed a fine silver wire, which he pulled along as he dashed around the fringes of the crowd.

A vampyre leapt at him, throwing him off balance. He dropped the wire by accident as they both fell to the ground, grappling with each other.

"Time to die, traitor!" the vampyre hissed, aiming to take a bite out of Alucard's shoulder. However, he took a quick swipe across the vampyre's face, and he fell back, screeching as blood dribbled down his face.

"No time to debate semantics now, brother," Alucard said, getting back on his feet and picking up the wire again. "So sorry." He took to the edge of the crowd and pulled another stake out of his pocket and rammed it into the marshy soil. He saw that he would have to run through the thick of the picket force to plant the third one and knew he wouldn't be able to do it himself.

Instead, he pulled the third stake out of his pocket and shouted, "Adalyn! Catch!" She was directly opposite him across the crowd, perhaps a hundred feet away. He lobbed the silver object in a lazy arc above the crowd, but none of the enemies seemed to pay attention to it. Instead, his shout had focused their attention on him instead.

"So…fifty angry vampyres, all focused on me, "he quietly mused. "Oh well. As long as Addy catches the stake, I suppose I can't complain." He dropped into a defensive stance, his arms spread wide, and grinned. "You want me? Come and get me!"

Across from him, Adalyn saw the silver object flying through the air toward her, and she knew what to do with it. She quickly backpedaled, trying to gauge where it would land, when it slammed into the upturned palms of her hands.

"Damn, that's heavy!" she muttered. "How did you throw it like that, Alucard?"

Questions aside, she knew what she had to do. She plunged the spike into the earth, trailing wire like the first two, and grasped the wire in her lithe hands. Now all she had to do was connect it to the first.

She stole around the perimeter of the army until she saw the silver spike jutting out of the ground like a six-inch-tall monolith. She quickly knelt down and wrapped the wire around the stake, and stood up.

"Dammit," she cursed under her breath. "What were the words again?" She smacked herself on the forehead with the heel of her hand. "Think, Adalyn, think, it's got to be-"

"Fire breaker, activate!" she heard Alucard yell, and she instantly dove away from the triangular set of stakes. She heard a low rumbling, and yelled, "Joel! Toward me! Get over here now!" She saw his surprised face, but he quickly dispatched of the foe he was fighting and dashed toward her.

"Addy! What's going on?" he asked. "What was Alucard talk-" He was cut off by a sound so bass that Joel could feel his teeth rattle in his skull. He looked at the triangle of wire surrounding half the opposing army, and was stunned by what he saw. As high as the eye could see, pillars of iridescent fire poured down from the grey sky, torching all who stood within the boundary created by the stakes. It was accompanied by a continuous bass roar. The heat was so intense that both Joel and Adalyn had to turn their faces away. If it was this intense for them, how much worse was it for those caught in the triangle…?

It abruptly stopped, and everything was relatively quiet for a second as the vampyres looked on in stunned silence at the scorched remains of their comrades. Behind it all stood Alucard, panting heavily and covered in cuts and gashes of varying seriousness.

"You'll…have to forgive me…you two. That spell drained…all my energy. I don't think…that I can finish this fight…"

With a tired grin, he toppled forward, his face to the side.

"Alucard!" Adalyn yelled in distress.

"Uh…Addy?" Joel said nervously. "I think that, uh, maybe you should be worrying about us!"

She turned to look and her gut froze over. Though Alucard's fire spell had taken most of the vampyres out, there were still over twenty of them left. Kyran and Alucard were both out of the fight- the odds didn't look too good for them.

She took a deep breath and loaded her crossbow with another set of bolts.

"We can do this, Joel," she said quietly. "As long as we fight…we'll win."

Joel sighed. "Whatever you say, Addy. You wanna split 'em evenly, or give me fifteen and you get the rest?"

Adalyn couldn't stop a grim smile from playing on her lips. "Evenly. Fair's fair, after all…"

She was about to fire off her first bolt when she saw what looked like arcs of fire tracing through the air behind the crowd of vampyres. It was accompanied by cries of pain and death rattles from the vampyres in the back. Suddenly, as the rest of the foes turned to look at this thing that was killing their allies, a figure barreled through the vampyres, throwing them aside, and stood in front of Adalyn and Joel.

Adalyn couldn't help but stare; in front of her stood a man who must have measured at least six and a half feet tall. He was muscular, but not hulking. His hair was a messy blond mop tied back in a spiky tail that hung to his shoulders. He wore a white platebody, trimmed in gold-just like David's, Adalyn thought- and platelegs of the same colour. In his hands, he wielded two wickedly curved silver scimitars that had strangely glowing chains attached to their hilts, both trailing to a black belt he wore around his waist. He wore no helmet, but his cape- it was the same as Kyran's.

"You're a slayer master…" Adalyn said slowly.

The man grinned. "Indeed I am."

"A slayer master?" Joel said. "Wait, what's your name?"

The man looked pensive for a second, then scratched his clean-cut chin. "Well, names are tricky things. I gave mine up a long time ago. Apparently, though, people have taken to calling me the Raging Bull of Relleka. You can just call me Bull."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "That's, uh, quite a name, Bull. But never mind that at the moment, would you mind helping us take care of our current problem?"

Bull smacked a fist into his open palm. "Oh, yeah. Let's do it!"

Suddenly, lines of fire grew across the edges of his silver scimitars and down the links of the connected chains. Bull put his hands around both chains and swung his blades around his head, swirling into a blazing tornado. He took a wild slash at the front row of vampyres, slicing them into hash before they could blink. Almost instantly, the ones behind them charged forward, but were stopped in their tracks, either by Adalyn shooting them through the head or Joel bashing their skulls in with the spear.

Bull firmly gripped the hilts of his scimitars in his bare palms in a reverse grip and dashed forward. He slashed a bloody canyon across the chest of one vampyre, and spun around, severing the head of another.

The three of them quickly dispatched the small group of vampyres in a few minutes. Blood streaked Joel's spear and Bull's scimitars, and dust caked around Adalyn's feet and legs.

Joel leaned on the spear, and exhaled. "Hoo, let me tell ya, Bull…without you, we'd have been vampyre chow by now. Thanks. By the way, how exactly did you find us?"

Bull looked over his shoulder at where Astrid was kneeling over Kyran's limp form, then at Alucard, still lying on the ground. "That's a story for another time…Perhaps we should take care of the others first?"

Joel shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so. Addy, you take care of Alucard. Bull and I'll take care of Kyran." Adalyn nodded, and stole over to his prostrate form.

As Joel and Bull walked over to Astrid, she looked up at them, her eyes tired and grey.

"Ah…Apparently, the Lance was too much for him at first," she said after a brief hesitation. "His body wasn't accustomed to that kind of power. He'll be fine after a short rest."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "So…you're the Lance? As in, you're Kyran's sword? _And_ his wife?"

"Yes, Joel," she replied, rolling his eyes at him. "Go ahead and tell this person of whom you have no previous knowledge that I am in fact one of the most powerful weapons known to mankind, rivaling the Godsword. I'm sure he can be implicitly trusted."

Bull scratched the back of his head. "Oh, come on. I'm not that suspicious-looking, am I? I mean, if you had some way of contacting Kuradal, she could verify it. But, ah, I mean, I do have the cape."

After a second, Astrid shrugged. "I suppose whatever damage could be done has already been done. My name is Astrid," she said, standing up and extending a hand.

He took the hand and kissed it. "My name, Astrid, has been lost to the ravages of time. You may call me Bull instead."

Astrid took a look at Joel and Adalyn. "I suppose we should probably get back to Burgh de Rott, then."

"Well," Adalyn said, "we _would _have access to better medical care there."

"Alright," she replied. "Then we'll set out after Kyran comes to."

**Several hours later**

"You sure took your sweet time getting up, Sarge!" Joel said, poking his arm.

Kyran looked at the former Lance-Corporal and scowled. "I'm sorry for holding you up, kid. It's my fault for not being able to handle a weapon as powerful as the Godsword the first time I used it! By the way, why did you take that thing?"

Joel gripped the hilt of the Godsword, which was strapped across his back. "Oh, come on, Sarge, why would you leave a weapon like this lying on the ground when you could use it yourself? Beats the hell out of your spear, that's for sure."

Kyran was about to respond when they passed the arch that led to the six Barrows.

Astrid popped her knuckles. "You know, Kyran, there's a legend that Zaros revived the six Barrows brothers from the dead so they could guard something deep in the crypts."

"Let me guess," he replied. "You're going to say that it's not actually a legend, and that they really are alive after all?"

Astrid smiled. "Oh, Kyran, you're a mind reader, aren't you?"

He smacked himself on the forehead."I hate when I'm right," he groaned. "Let's stay the hell out of there, huh?"

"Actually," Astrid said, "the Barrows brothers are fundamentally Zarosian after Zamorak betrayed them and lured them to their deaths. They would be friendly to someone in the company of, I don't know, the _Lance_ of Zaros?"

Kyran shrugged. "Then what do we have to lose? I suppose they'd be helpful, but, well, it's getting dark. Perhaps we should just camp out here and delve into the tombs in the morning?"

Alucard had bandages wrapped around the better part of his torso, and both arms, but he still nodded. "That would probably be wise. There are things that lurk in the night in those tunnels…"

**Next morning**

The group stood in the middle of the six mounds of earth.

"There's nobody around, what do we do now?" asked Bull.

"Let's have a look in those tombs," said Joel. "Who knows- we might meet Guthan in there!"

Bull chuckled. "I have a feeling he'd be rather upset that you're wearing his armour."

"Which I'm sure would be quite amusing," said Alucard. "But who's that?" He was pointing to an old man wandering around talking to himself.

"That's just the strange old man," replied Joel. "He's, uh, kinda strange, but essentially harmless. I don't know what he's doing here, or why he's here, but he wasn't any trouble to me when I come on a task from Sumona. Changing subject, though, we'd have to dig our way into the tombs. Be careful of all the skeletons, rats and worms, though- they're all a lot bigger and stronger than the ones I've seen anywhere else!"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Bull. "Rats _and_ worms? Oh, whatever shall we do?"

"Shut up, you," Joel replied. "Things really are very strange in there. For one thing, I feel less connected to Saradomin when I'm in there." They descended into one of the pre-made holes that led into the tombs, surrounded by eerie gloom, making them feel alone, and slightly scared.

"These tombs are quite strange," Alucard commented, looking at the six stone coffins arranged in a large hexagon. "It's exactly as I remember them."

"True enough," Joel replied. "But if we want their help, the best way to get in contact with 'em…is to wake 'em up!"

"NO!" shouted Alucard, as a strange figure, clothed in battle armour and wielding a huge spear, leapt from inside the coffin. Joel desperately parried each of his attacks with the Godsword.

"Whelp!" the figure growled. "First you steal my armour, then you have the nerve to disturb me?" Dumbstruck, the others could only stare at the combatants.

"Don't their armours look alike?" commented Adalyn.

"Yeah, they do…" mused Kyran. "It also looks like my platebody. That must be Guthan, then…"

As Joel wrestled the figure to the ground, Guthan roared "Come to me, my brothers!"

From the other coffins, five figures appeared as a cloud of smoke rolled in from the tunnels, all fearsome looking characters, heavily armoured. One figure, wielding a huge axe, rushed Joel, but Alucard jumped in front of him, blocking his axe with his claws.

"Guthan! Dharok! Stop fighting!" shouted the oldest-looking of them, a mage, judging by his robes. As the brothers paused, Joel and Alucard stole back to the group, as the other brothers stood by Guthan and Dharok. The one who had shouted came forwards, and seemed to be scolding them. Joel and Alucard took the opportunity to dust themselves off, removing the age-old dirt that had been on the coffins from their clothes.

"I must apologize for how those two have behaved," the mage said. "They always were rather hot-blooded. Believe me, their aggression got them into trouble more than once… Anyway, allow us to introduce ourselves, I am Ahrim, the one with the crossbow is…"

"Let me guess," Joel interrupted. "He's Karil. The one with that massive flail is Verac, and the one with that wicked set of hammers would be Torag. Right?"

"Ah," Ahrim said. "Then you do know of us!"

"The six legendary Misthalanian heroes?" Joel said, a stupid grin forming on his face. "As a good Varrock boy, how could I _not _know about you?"

Before anybody could reply, Alucard extended a hand."Pleased to meet you, Ahrim, I am Alucard, and my friends are Joel, Astrid, Kyran, Bull, and Adalyn," he said, pointing to each of them in turn. Also, I'm sorry if this appears to be rude, but, ermmm, aren't you supposed to be... well, dead?"

Ahrim nodded."Ah! We know Astrid here- she's the daughter of our…boss. Yes, the official records say that we are in fact dead. Blasted bureaucrats, they've probably still got us voting for them anyway. Regardless, the reason we're not dead after that accursed Zamorak betrayed us is- well, we owe our lives to Zaros. After we were buried in these tunnels that our fellow soldiers dug- they're all long dead, Guthix rest their souls-Zaros appeared and presented us with an offer to protect a certain sigil that was located in one of his temples. In return, he granted us immortality. Incidentally, Joel, why do you appear to be wearing Guthan's armour?"

"Oh! That…" Joel said, scratching his head and grinning awkwardly. "I was set on a task by my slayer master to kill some undead, and I found the reanimated skeletons here, so I decided this was as good a place as any. While hunting them down, I found a chest, and this armour was inside."

"Hmmm, that seems plausible," Ahrim said, nodding. "We did keep spare armour sets in a magical chest we were given. Anyway, what are you doing here?"

That was where Kyran interrupted."We're on a quest to kill Drakan, and we thought that there may be something here that could help us, perhaps some sort of weapon."

Astrid cleared her throat. "You mean, a weapon like the Lance of Zaros? The one that you already found? Or the Godsword that we looted off an enemy's body?"

Kyran put an arm around Astrid and grinned. "Oh come on, honey, you know it's all about being sure, right? Can't be too careful, huh?"

Ahrim looked supremely confused for a second, pointing at Kyran and then Astrid. "Wait a second. You…and her…You're…"

Kyran nodded. "We are. She's my wife. Got married in Relleka 'bout a year and a half ago. Of course, I thought she was dead for a good chunk of that time, but still."

Ahrim scratched his chin. "Now, that's…interesting. But as for something that could help you in your war with Drakan…how about us? Dharok's handy with that axe of his, as aggressive as he is, and I'm no slouch with magic either. Not to mention that Verac, Karil, Guthan and Torag all received training from some of Zaros' chosen generals."

Joel grinned. "Absolutely! We'd love to have you by our side, but don't you have to guard that sigil you were talking about?"

Ahrim dug around in his pocket, finally producing a small stone staue that looked like a robed, headless figure with his hands together. "You mean this one? Its purpose was to absorb the prayers of the adventurers who passed through here, which it's done for over a thousand years now. If we take it with us, it'll remain safe. So we're completely free."

A smile crept across Kyran's face. "Then by all means, my new friends. Our first stop is Burgh de Rott. After that- Castle Drakan!"

They all filed out of the tomb in a disorganized group, with Ahrim and Kyran in the front.

"You know, Kyran…There's something you should know about your wife," Ahrim said in a low tone.

"Yeah? And what's that?" he replied.

Ahrim's face turned serious. "She told you that she is the Lance of Zaros, yes. But not only is she his weapon…she's his daughter."


	8. The Ghost Town

**The Lance of Zaros, Part VIII**

** I'm really sorry I haven't updated in so long; I had college finals, but now that they're over with, I'll have more time to write! Anyways, at the bottom, there's a contest…M ake sure to read, review and respond to said contest! **

**The Ghost Town**

A chill wind blew through the open windows in the top chamber of the Miscellanian Castle.

Kyran shivered, and pulled the woolen blanket tighter around himself. "Man, Astrid, you don't have _any_ sense of hot and cold, do you? Leaving the window open when the ponds outside are frozen! If you weren't such a good kisser, I might have had to find a Karamjan princess to marry instead!"

Astrid smacked him playfully on the arm, and got up off the couch to shut the window that was placed about waist level and provided a stunning vista of Miscellania as night came on. Shimmering brown waves of grain rippled gently in the wind, and the needles of swaying evergreens shone gently with water retained from the day's rain. On the rocky shore, foamy white waves wrecked themselves upon boulders bigger than a man. A slowly-flowing river, with water so clear the trout swimming in its depths were easily seen, wound its way in front of the castle, a few small houses dotting its banks. Astrid took one last look at the landscape lain out under fading light, then slipped back under the blanket that she and Kyran had been sharing.

Kyran shivered almost imperceptibly, and then grinned as he put an arm around Astrid.

"Another day as king and queen done and dusted, eh?" he said, kissing her forehead.

Astrid smiled mischievously. "Well, the day's not over _quite_ yet…hmm?"

Kyran raised one eyebrow. "Not over yet, indeed…If you want-" his eyes suddenly grew wide as he looked out the window.

"If I want what?" Astrid asked in a silky tone. "…What are you looking at?" She turned her head to look where his head was turned, and she saw, in the dying light, fat white flakes of snow, drifting lazily from the cloudy skies above. "What? It's just snowing."

Kyran apparently didn't hear her; he jumped up off the couch and threw the windows open.

"Astrid!" he said, a disbelieving grin growing ever larger on his face. "It's….haha! It's snowing! It's actually snowing!"

She had a quizzical look on her face. "Yeah, it's snowing…so what? It's not like it's the first time it's happened on Miscellania or anything."

"You don't get it, Astrid," he replied, still grinning. "We_ never_ got snow in Ardougne! We were lucky if we got a layer of frost on the ground!"

Astrid chuckled. "You've never had a snow day? Then…perhaps we can put our current plans on hold for the moment. I'll tell Advisor Ghrim-though I doubt he would approve of royalty engaging in such frivolities as a snowball fight- and perhaps we can ask Ingrid, Leif, and Skraeling if they would be averse to a quick outing."

_I remember that we pelted each other with packed snowballs, it was really the first time I saw Astrid completely unwind, with no cares in the world. Even when she was angry or depressed, she was beautiful, but that night, when she let all of her problems go- when she smiled…the world absolutely lit up. I had no idea of the events to come at the time; nor did I know that I was to be married to the half-divine daughter of Zaros himself…_

**Present Day**

"She's _what?"_ Kyran half-said, half-sputtered, as they walked along the path that led to Mort'ton.

Ahrim blinked. "She's his daughter. Zaros believed that she would one day help him overthrow Zamorak."

"But…she said she was a tool!" he lamely responded.

"She is, from a certain point of view," Ahrim said. "But while she is indeed a weapon incomparable to any other, she is also unquestionably Zaros' blood. He doted on her like any father would; he even sent her gifts regularly on her birthday. Of course, he couldn't always be around- he was supposed to be banished, after all- but, without a doubt, he loved her very much."

Kyran looked pensive for a second. "What was he like?" he finally asked.

Ahrim closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Zaros…how do I begin to describe him? He's…like fire, and, ice, and rage. He's like the night, and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and he can see the turn of the universe. And... he's wonderful. He always appeared to us in the form of a human, but you could always feel the barely-suppressed power surging through his veins. It was like standing in front of an open furnace. But he was never anything other than kind to us. His enemies, though- that was a different story. He was a raging typhoon, made of pure, distilled ferocity. Any who would threaten those he considered family- he would suffer none to live. He had all the qualities that any of us would look for in a comrade in arms. He was a god, yes, but…he was amazing. He was our friend, almost like a father to us. To all of us."

Kyran stared at him for a second. "In all my life, I've never heard Zaros described like that."

Ahrim turned and gave him a hard look. "That would be because Saradomin has always hated Zaros- he could never get over the fact that he was weaker than him. I would say his followers don't want you sympathizing with the enemy."

At that point, Astrid stepped in between them, smiling. "I assume my friend Ahrim has been telling you about my father."

Kyran chuckled disbelievingly. "Well, heh, I had no clue that I was married to a demigod-err, goddess. Don't get me wrong, I understand why you didn't tell me about it- I'm not quite sure how I would have reacted back on Miscellania- but…as you might imagine, it was a bit of a shock."

Astrid hung her head, staring forlornly at the ground. "No, Kyran, it's not okay. I should have told you before I fled Miscellania and tricked you into thinking I was dead. That was a mistake on my part, and I hope you can forgive me, but…now you know, and…do you think we can move on?"

Kyran raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly. "Oh, come on, Astrid. You've already asked me this, and I said yes. You don't need to apologize again." He turned to Ahrim. "Was she always this emotional?"

Ahrim chuckled. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Hey!" Astrid said, indignant. "I'm baring my soul here, Kyran! Don't make fun of me!"

He clasped her hand and rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I'm joking…so you don't have to ask again, okay?"

"Oh ho," Ahrim said, a smirk appearing on his face. "Aw, isn't that sweet? Little Astrid, the most destructive weapon known to mankind, and she goes all weak in the knees in the face of one man. Kyran, my friend, you are a lucky man indeed…"

Astrid fumed. "You shut up, Ahrim! I'd call you by your old nickname if we weren't in mixed company!"

_ I never found out what Ahrim's "old nickname" was- at least, not while we were in Morytania. The next two days through Mort'ton and on to Burgh de Rott were pretty boring. We killed a few snails, and that definitely wasn't the best food I had ever tasted in my life, even with Joel cooking it, but it was food. It was only on the approach to the Myreque base town that I began to feel something was very wrong indeed…_

"About time we got here!" Joel quipped. "I was getting tired of snailburgers. I'm looking forward to some real food…"

Dharok snickered. "Are you sure you don't want to swap your sword for my axe? I promise, you'd be getting the better end of the deal…"

Joel rolled his eyes. "I swear, Dharok, ask me that one more time, and I'll take your axe from you by force."

They approached the wooden gates that marked the only entrance into Burgh de Rott, but there was an eerie stillness that hung ominously in the air. There was no bustle of people delivering weapons, no smell of sizzling meat, none of the sensations that made up even a small city.

"Hold on a second!" Kyran said, holding up a hand. "Something's wrong here. You hear that?" he asked, gesturing at Bull.

Bull shut his eyes for a second, then shrugged. "Nah, I don't hear anything."

Kyran nodded. "Exactly. Nothing. Not a sound, not a peep, no bustle at all. It seems a bit strange, doesn't it?"

Verac shrugged. "We haven't been outside the tombs for over four hundred years, so we wouldn't really know what constitutes 'loud'…"

Adalyn nodded absently. "Yeah, there's definitely something going on. Perhaps we should split up and search the city?"

Kyran looked at Bull. "Any objections?" Bull shook his head.

"Okay," Ahrim said. "So what should the groups be?"

Kyran scratched his chin. "Hmm…okay. We'll split up into four groups of three each. I'll go with Astrid and Ahrim. Joel, you're with Dharok and Adalyn. Alucard, you're with Guthan and Karil. And Bull, you'll go with Verac and Torag. Sound good?"

Everyone nodded, and after a second, Kyran did the same. "Good. We'll take the north-western quarter. Joel, you've got the north-eastern section. Alucard, search the south-eastern quadrant. And Bull, take care of the south-western part." He flung his arm out. "Deploy!"

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

"You know, you're a bit of an odd candidate for the Myreque, Alucard," Guthan said.

Alucard opened the door on an apparently abandoned house. "You're not really one to talk, though. After all, you're supposed to have died over a thousand years ago."

Karil chuckled. "He's got you there, Guthan. What he meant to say was, there aren't many vampyres rebelling against Drakan. So what got you to do it?"

Alucard cleared his throat. "You'd be surprised how many vampyres are opposed to his rule. The thing is, they're all chained up. It's only because Adalyn found me on one of her trips into Meiyerditch that I'm not still there."

Karil nodded, then studied the interior of the house they had entered. It was a wreck, with nothing where it should have been. Papers were strewn across the floor, pillows had the stuffing ripped out of them, and there were candles on the tables, still lit.

"Well, it definitely looks like there was a struggle here…" Karil said.

Guthan raised an eyebrow. "No. Really? What makes you think that?"

"Hmm…it was either a struggle…or perhaps a _very _disorganized evacuation."

Karil scratched his chin. "Perhaps. And we didn't see anyone else before we checked this house…"

Alucard turned around. "You two: look for any sort of documentation as to what happened here. Journals, torn papers, anything that might tell us what happened here. I'll stay here to check out the rest of the house."

Guthan and Karil nodded, and split off in opposite directions after walking through the door.

Alucard turned around slowly and grinned. "Now, little domicile, what secrets do you have to yield up for me…?"

UUUUUUUUUUUUU

Kyran stared in disbelief at the basement's pub. The pub- abandoned, of course- had always been a wreck, since it was supposed to be a cover, but according to Veliaf, the basement was always immaculately clean. Now, though- it was a mess, with dirt and rubble flung haphazardly across the floor. The tables were completely trashed- broken in half, in quarters, into nothing but chunks and splinters. Chairs were smashed, and the walls were missing bricks and mortar. It seemed like the basement was due to collapse at any second. On the ruins of one of the tables lay a hastily written note. Kyran picked it up and took a look at it.

_Andorin. Don't you think the mines are lovely? Daeyalt, indeed…But those psychics are tricky bastards. Death doesn't stop their bastardry, either, does it? Nor does it dull their cunning. We'd have taken them in a tussle, but they had the big one with them. So it's safe to say that basements aren't going to divulge any more secrets. Anyway, those furry transformers aren't exactly hospitable to us, so we took up residence in Saradomin's care. If you haven't made contact by then, we'll assume the worst._

_ -Volf_

"What the hell?" Kyran said, scratching his head. "This note makes no sense. Mines? Transformers…What?"

Astrid walked up beside him. "It's probably written in code," she said, taking the note from him. "Veliaf and I had some contact, so he entrusted me with the encryption key. Give me a second to read over it…"

She quickly scanned the document, and bit her lower lip. "This isn't good," she said. "Not good at all."

"What is it?" Ahrim said. "What could possibly be so bad?"

She turned to him, a grimace on her face. "They've been found out. A band of vyrewatch attacked the settlement, and they brought Drakan himself with them this time. They didn't stand a chance, so they fled. They tried to hold him off while the rest of the Myreque escaped, but only about half escaped, including Veliaf and a few generals. They couldn't go to Canifis since the werewolves are Drakan sympathizers, so they fled to Paterdomus instead."

Kyran blinked a few times. "Hold on a second. If that happened, how did he manage to get a note written and dropped on the table while Drakan was attacking them?"

"Because it wasn't while he was attacking them. There's a lodestone hidden in the table so that wherever Veliaf is, he can teleport whatever he needs to into this room."

"Ssso…." A voice hissed from the darkness in the corner of the room, making everyone jump. "They hide in Paterdomus, the cowards." A hulking figure, at least seven feet tall, lurched out of the darkness. His skin was the color of alabaster, and he was clothed in black chainmail and clanking metal platelegs. He wore no helmet, but held in his right hand a massive silver trident.

Astrid trembled slightly. "No…it can't be…you're…"

The figure chuckled, and it sounded like a timpani drum.

"Lord Drakan…in the flesh."

**So how was that? Surprising enough? Probably not, heh heh. Anyway, the contest is this: create a character for me to write into the story. Protagonist, antagonist, I don't care- although I might give good antagonist characters a little more consideration, seeing as how I already have so many protagonists. Regardless, post your character ideas in the reviews section, and be creative! See you next time!**


	9. The Reveal

**The Lance of Zaros, Chapter IX**

**The Reveal**

** Hello again, everyone, I'm back! I'm sorry you had to wait so long, but never fear-the new chapter is here! Anyway, just remember that the contest is still going on, and I only have one entry! And again: good antagonist characters will most likely get more consideration that protagonists, but if it's a good character, I'll use it! Without further ado, I'll let you read on. Remember to review! :D**

Astrid growled, a feral rumbling emanating from the back of her throat. "You scum. I never imagined you'd actually come here."

Drakan gave a lopsided grin. "You really thought a rebel group could hideout so close to the stronghold of its enemy would go for any significant amount of time without being discovered? Your mind must be as weak as your comrade's spirits."

"You be quiet!" Astrid suddenly lashed out. "Shut your filthy mouth, you son of a-" She was cut off as Ahrim put a hand up to silence her.

"Astrid," he intoned gravely, a grimace on his face. "If you're smart, you don't fight Drakan, _ever. _We need to get out of here."

"No!" she retorted, her face a mask of rage. "We have the opportunity to kill him, right here and now!"

"You know," Drakan said, a wicked cheer evident in his voice, "perhaps you shouldn't debate on what to do with your opponent-" he disappeared in a blink, leaving a whiff of dust on the ground.

A clawed hand appeared around Ahrim's throat, accompanied by a choking, gurgling sound.

"-while he's right in front of you, hmm?"

"Ahrim!" Astrid's eyes flared, and she gripped Kyran's hand tightly. "Come on, Kyran!" Her body evaporated into a fine mist and coated his body, reforming into the obsidian-black armour from before.

"Oh, ho…" Darkan said, the slight wrinkles around his mouth creasing as he smiled, only looking the more cruel for it. "So this is the Lance of Zaros, is it? Not quite what I expected from the daughter of the Empty Lord himself…Perhaps you've chosen an unworthy partner? That…boy is hardly suitable as a host. Although…" he picked Ahrim up, with the ancient mage clutching feebly at his throat. "Things to do, places to be. I'll dispose of you quickly enough." He flung Ahrim at the wall behind Kyran; he hit with a thud and flopped onto the ground, wheezing silently. He then crossed his arms and nodded.

"I'm not without chivalry," Drakan said. "I'll let you have the first attack." When he saw the look on Kyran's face, he let out an exasperated sigh. "Come on, then. I don't have all day, you know. I need to set about…renovating this hovel of a town. Maybe there will even be some humans who weren't evacuated! I'm sure that would prove most entertaining for my-"

"_DRAKAAAAANNNN!"_ Kyran roared, charging at the vampyre lord, holding _Aranar_ behind him at the ready. It liquefied and morphed into a four-foot razor thin rapier. He lunged forward, straight toward the heart-

-but Drakan easily danced out of the way, lithely sidestepping his opponent's attack. Kyran stumbled but recovered quickly, turning to face Drakan, the rapier reforming into a set of long black throwing knives held tightly in between his fingers. A quick flick of his wrist launched one that would have pierced Drakan's skull right between his ash-colored eyes- but he effortlessly caught it in between his index and middle fingers, tossing it away with a look of casual disdain on his face.

"Tch," Kyran grunted, falling back in the surprisingly large underground room. "Nothing's working!" His knives shifted back into _Aranar,_ and he held it up along with his off-hand blade in a defensive position.

Drakan snorted. "Is this truly all you can muster up? Is this all I can expect from the daughter of the Empty Lord and her ill-chosen partner? Perhaps I'd best just finish you off now and be done with it."

He sauntered slowly toward them, the evil smile no longer present on his cruel face. Instead, there was a grim slash that spoke of nothing but pain.

_Astrid…He's too strong! I can't even land a single blow! What should I do?_

The response was hesitant. _I…don't know. I've never encountered someone this strong before. If only we weren't alone in this fight…_

Kyran took a tentative step backwards, hopping on the balls of his feet. An idea born out of desperation took root in his mind. His sword melted, morphing into a long black crossbow with a rack of bolts locked into the firing slot. Kyran pulled a nondescript white pouch out of the bag slung across his waist and attached it to one of the bolts quickly, taking aim at Drakan's pointed nose.

He pulled the crossbow's release trigger.

With supernatural speed, Drakan ducked down, the bolt whiffing harmlessly over his head and embedding itself harmlessly in the wall behind him.

"You might as well do yourself a favor, whelp, and give up now. Because from this point on there's going to be a lot less talking, and a lot more killing."

Kyran quickly fumbled around in his bag for a brown leather pouch that weighed about a pound.

"Kill this." Kyran undid the tie securing the bag and flung it in Drakan's face.

The vampyre lord spluttered and coughed as a cloud of ash filled the area surrounding his head. It quickly settled onto the floor in several heaps of soot.

Drakan wiped the dust from his face and snarled, stepping forward and raising his immaculate silver trident above his head. "You think you're clever, boy?"

Kyran grinned. "Actually, yes. Yes I do. Because, you see, the ash inside that pouch wan't just ash. Well, it was mostly ash, but you know what else was in it? Just a couple of leftover ingredients I used to kill Count Draynor wayyyyy back in the day. Those ingredients? It was some ground-up garlic, along with the remains of a pulverized bar of silver. And another thing-"

Kyran fell silent as the ground beneath Drakan began to shudder, the ash pluming into small clouds.

"-don't let me talk."

A ring of flame encircled the count, and he looked down at his feet. Tongues of fire licked at his boots, and suddenly-

A flaming bird as tall as Drakan burst from the ground, radiant wings ablaze in a rainbow of reds and oranges. It slammed into Drakan, lifting him off his feet, singing the edges of the tunic that hung out of his chainmail. The phoenix finally dropped Drakan to the floor, tendrils of smoke drifting up from his body. It roosted on its taloned feet next to Kyran, preening its wings.

"That was such a load of rubbish!" Kyran said, sporting a lopsided smirk. "'The remains of a pulverized bar of silver'. Ha! I can't believe you let me blather on like that!"

On the ground, Drakan's smoldering form twitched, and he pushed himself off the ground, resting on his elbows. He looked up at Kyran.

"You fool."

Kyran blinked. Fool?

"You utter, deluded fool," Drakan said, spitting a glob of ashy paste out of his mouth. "You honestly thought-"he stood up and dusted his armour off- "that a pitiful familiar like that bird could really harm me?"

Kyran's smirk disappeared, and he took another step backward. "Uh, yeah, I was kind of hoping…"

Drakan stepped forward, raising his trident to strike. "Then you hoped in vain, boy. Now you die!" His muscles tensed, preparing to thrust his trident through Kyran's exposed skull-

"_YOU BASTAAAAAARRRRRRD!"_

Drakan flinched and spun around to see Joel leaping through the air toward him, the Godsword held high above his head, ready to cleave his head in half.

"Tch," Drakan grunted, putting a forearm up. A square field of bluish-white light buzzed into existence in front of his arm right before Joel slammed his Godsword down onto it with an almighty crash and the unholy squeal of metal on metal.

Joel leapt back, holding his weapon at the ready.

Drakan looked from Kyran to Joel, then back, and chuckled cruelly. "Now this is...interesting. The Lance of Zaros, and the Sword of Zamorak, held by collaborators? This can only lead to an unusual scenario. Perhaps I can leave you alive for a bit…just to see how this will all play out. But remember this, host. Your weakness…" Drakan swirled his black cape around himself, glowing with the effects of a teleport. "Your weakness will never change."

Astrid reappeared beside Kyran, whose knees went weak, and quickly buckled, making Kyran collapse onto the floor, breathing heavily.

"Joel…" Kyran panted, a rivulet of sweat running down the side of his face. "Thank Guthix. Joel…I owe you my life."

Joel grinned confidently. "Ahh, it was nothing! You know, leaping in, saving the day…it's all a part of the routine for a super soldier like yours truly!"

"He was…more helpful than I was, at least…" came a voice from the floor on the side of the room.

Kyran's eyebrows shot up. Ahrim! How could he have forgotten about him?

"Hey!" he said, getting up and moving toward his fallen comrade. "Are you alright, man?"

Ahrim pushed himself off the ground, holding onto his staff to support himself.

"Sure," he replied, an angry frown upon his face. "I'm fine-physically, at least. I can't fight worth a damn, and I just found out that I'm worthless in a brawl, but sure! I'm absolutely goddamn _fine!"_

Astrid put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Ahrim. Calm down….It was Lord Drakan himself. Don't beat yourself up about it."

Ahrim shook his head. "Oh, I'm not. That vampyre scum did it for me!"

"Come on," Kyran said, holding his hands up. "We can get off that subject. What we need to do right now is reunite with the other groups and meet up with Veliaf in Paterdomus."

After a few seconds, Ahrim grudgingly nodded. "You're right, of course. By the way, Joel, how in Gielinor did you know to come to the pub's basement?"

Joel scratched the back of his head. "Oh…well, when we were searching the buildings, I saw a sheet of paper with the words 'pub' and 'Drakan' scrawled across it. Adalyn thought I should go and check it out while she and Dharok checked out the rest of the quadrant. Heard a scuffle when I came to the pub, so I thought, 'What the hell?' and the rest is history."

"Well, let's go find 'em…" Kyran said, taking a deep breath.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

_It didn't take long to round everyone upafter that. It was actually kind of funny- Bull was disappointed that Drakan had shown up to us and not him; apparently he was spoiling for a fight. Alucard's team thought the house they had found initially would have some interesting info, but nothing turned up. We set off north through Mort Myre, trying to be as stealthy as a group of twelve warriors tromping through a marsh could be, and within two days, we were skirting around the west side of Canifis, on the road to Paterdomus. Drezel greeted us very cheerfully, and guided us to the halls where the Myreque were temporarily stationed. Veliaf was…not happy about the situation, to say the least, but he was glad that we were back. We told him about the battle at Astrid's house, and how the Barrows Brothers decided to join up with us, and the lopsided fight with Drakan. He seemed to care less about the story than the fact that we were still alive…_

"What are we going to do, Astrid?" Veliaf said, head in his hands. "We lost Burgh de Rott. The treasury, the armoury…everything! We have nowhere to stay- we can't overstay our welcome here. So what do we do?"

"What the Myreque have always done, Veliaf," she replied calmly. "We fight. We regroup, and recover."

"But…but how?" he asked, exasperated. "We have no funds or weapons! Or even a base of operations! You're not helping any."

"Well…that's where you're wrong…" Astrid said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Tell me, have you ever heard of a kingdom called Miscellania?"

Veliaf thought for a second, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think so. Around the Fremennik province, small island?"

"Just the one," she replied. "Do you recall ever hearing the name of the kingdom's ruler?"

Veliaf shook his head. "No, not that I can remember. Astrid, where is this going?"

"Hold on a second, I'm getting to it," she replied. "The current ruler is in a self-imposed exile until such a day as he has found it within himself to come back. Currently, a man named Vargas rules in his place. And…"

She grinned. "I am Vargas' adoptive daughter."

Veliaf held his face straight.

"No way."

"Way."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yup."

Veliaf had a manic grin spreading across his face. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Astrid nodded.

"So we had the Princess of Miscellania allied with our rebel group the entire time…and we didn't know it?"

Astrid shook her head. "No, no, no…" she said. "Not the Princess. I'm the Queen, mate."

"Wait…" Veliaf said, scratching his head in confusion. "The Queen? I'm not following."

"That king in self-exile I told you about? That would be Kyran MacTavish. And he's my husband."

Veliaf chuckled in disbelief. "I don't believe it. I've gone mad! Absolutely stark-raving mad! The King and the Queen of Miscellania, part of the Myreque!"

Astrid grinned. "We have some very large, open tracts of land on Miscellania available. And I have a feeling that Kyran would be willing to reassume his title as King. We'd be more than willing to help fund the Myreque."

"But…what would the purpose of the Myreque be, if we were not in Morytania? We have always been an organization that fought Drakan's regime! What would we do all the way in Miscellania?"

"Well, regroup, of course," Astrid replied. "Regain your strength, gather more troops and weapons, and when the time is right- then we take the fight back to Drakan."

Veliaf finally nodded. "Alright. I see the logic here. By the way, where _is _Kyran?"

"Right here," he said, appearing from a long, winding hallway, leaning on the wall.

"And Astrid's right," he said, nodding. "To help the Myreque, I will take up my crown again."

Astrid looked at him with a grin. "Oh, come on, Kyran, you know you want to say it. Go on, then…"

"Oh, alright," he replied.

He took a breath and smiled.

"It's good to be king."

**So how'd you like that? I hope it wasn't too bad! Anyway, the contest is still on, so please make sure to create a character for it! I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner than I got this one up, heh heh! ^^; Okay, so long! Next time: Return to the homeland!**


	10. Return to the Homeland

**The Lance of Zaros, Chapter X**

**The Homefront**

The remaining members of the Myreque were depressingly few, all able to fit into one medium-sized chamber inside Paterdomus' maze of tunnels and hallways. Kyran and Astrid stood in front of the group of about a hundred ragged, disheveled freedom fighters, illuminated by the flickering torchlight.

Kyran cleared his throat, and gestured around the room at the strange symbols written in chalk all around the room.

"You may be wondering," he started off, "why I called you in here at such an hour in the morning, along with why these runes are drawn on the walls. The truth is…we've found a place to regroup. Miscellania, an island kingdom in the north, has agreed to give us shelter and supplies while we grow stronger."

Adalyn sat in the front row, legs crossed. "Why would that be?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Kyran shot a look at the elf, then sighed. "We…that is, Astrid and I, well…we're, uh…we're the king and queen of Miscellania."

The shock that hit the group in front of them was palpable. The only people who didn't look surprised were Veliaf, Joel, Bull, Adalyn, and the six barrows brothers.

After a few seconds of confused murmuring, Kyran spoke up again. "Though we may be royalty, we are still your comrades in arms. We will give shelter to the Myreque until such time as we have gained enough strength to return to Morytania."

After a moment of silence, a man sitting in the front, who looked to be barely more than a teenager, raised a hand.

"Er, Kyran…I mean, ah…that is, your Majesty…"

Kyran cringed. "Please…just Kyran."

"With the resources of the Myreque what they are at the moment, that is, almost nothing, a trip overland or even by sea all the way to Miscellania is simply infeasible. Perhaps we should find another place to hole up?"

Kyran nodded. "That's a valid question you have, ah…what was your name again?"

"Victor," the young man replied. "My name is Victor Dororan."

"Well, Victor Dororan, it's a good thing we've got such a perceptive mind in our midst." He turned ninety degrees, pacing back and forth on the stone floor. "His concern is warranted. A trip all the way to Miscellania _would _be quite a drain on our resources. However…" he grinned, pulling what appeared to be a tattered parchment scroll out of his back pocket. "That's only if we go by foot. Or by sea, as Victor said. No, this scroll is one I've been saving for a _loooong _time. I bought it from an almost-reputable merchant who seemed mostly sane at the time- he said that this scroll would teleport me straight back to Miscellania if I ever needed it."

There was a moment of silence, until Victor again spoke up.

"That seems nice, but…don't teleports generally only work for one person?"

Kyran grinned. "Guthix, you're a perceptive one, aren't you? Yes, most teleports only transport one person, and this one is no different. But!" He snapped around face the crowd. "That's where the runes all around the room come into play. If I use my body as a connection between the scroll's magic and the runes, we should be able to teleport every living thing in the room all the way to that small island kingdom." He rolled up the long sleeves of his shirt, and cuffed his pants up to his knees, revealing writing of the same type on the scroll and in the room. "See? Simple enough."

Without warning, he sat down on the cold floor cross-legged and put his hands together around the scroll, closing his eyes and mumbling incoherently.

A faint buzzing started to reverberate throughout the room, and a strange green glow suffused throughout. The air in the chamber began to go hazy, like heat lines in the Kharidian desert. A gentle wind began to blow through the area, blurring the walls, obscuring them from view. In a vortex of green wind, the stone floor abruptly shifted to a grassy knoll, and the atmosphere was noticeably colder than before. Almost instantly, the wind died down, and the air returned to normal, revealing the group to be in the courtyard of a large stone castle, with statues on either side of the large wooden double doors leading inside.

Kyran opened his eyes and stood up. "Well, I'll be!" he said, grinning. "It actually worked! Back in Miscellania!"

Astrid scrunched up her eyebrows, sniffing the air. "Something's not right, Kyran. I smell…smoke. Something's burning!"

Kyran's body stiffened, and he bit his lower lip. "Yeah, you're right…Okay, Astrid, you get the soldiers situated in the castle, I need to go find Advisor Ghrim." He dashed off through a large stone doorway that had the massive oaken doors flung open.

Astrid turned towards the group. "You heard him," she said. "All of you, follow me- except for you ten. Adalyn, Alucard, Bull, Joel, Ahrim, Dharok, Guthan, Karil, Torag and Verac- follow Kyran to see if he needs any help."

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

_I have to say, I never expected this._

Kyran sped out of the front doors of the castle, and his heart stopped.

Miscellania was burning.

_Although if it was just a fire…well, that would have been easy enough to survive. This, though…_

In front of the stone walls of the castle, massive wooden fences, at least three metres tall, easy, stood like silent sentinels. The stone gates were open wide, and through them, Kyran saw what he had hoped to never see ever again.

Dagannoths were overrunning the island.

Dismayed, Kyran ran through the gate, hoping to find someone, anyone who could tell him what in Zaros's name was going on. As he passed through, he saw hundreds of soldiers in Fremennik armour locked in mortal combat with the grey beasts, spilling their blood but taking an equal toll on their foes. Kyran stared in horror at the scene, when his eyes finally locked not onto Ghrim, but Chieftain Brundt of Relleka, directing troops. He quickly pulled up next to the chieftain.

"Brundt!" he exclaimed. "What the hell is going on here?"

Brundt took a quick glance to his side, then turned back. "Kyran! Took your sweet time getting here! Finally back from your _self-exile_?" He said the last two words with audible contempt.

Kyran bristled. "Yeah. Yeah, I am back. But you know what I think is more important than your dislike of me? It would be, oh, I don't know, _why my homeland is swarming with daggermouths!"_

Brundt grimaced but didn't turn to face him again. "That's a fine question coming from a former outerlander who adopted this land as his own only because his loins found a beguiling lass who lived here! Not to mention you unceremoniously skulked away after she died. Seems like a pretty tenuous connection to 'your' homeland. Do you really have _any _right to call this land your home?"

Bile rose in Kyran's throat. Gone for so long, and this was how he was greeted? He choked his anger down for a moment.

"Brundt…" he started off, struggling to keep an even tone with the taller man. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe I don't deserve to call Miscellania my home. But right now, all I'm concerned with is finding out what the hell happened here! So, to restate my question- _what the hell are the daggermouths are doing on Miscellania?"_

A clipped, formal voice with an edge of authority answered from behind Kyran.

"Perhaps now is not the best time for a history lesson, your Majesty…"

Kyran spun around and found himself staring into wizened face of Advisor Ghrim.

"I see you've finally found your way back to the kingdom. In your absence, it so happened that the three Dagannoth Kings have found the Dagannoth Mother and restored her to health. Now she is intent on killing you…which is why she's here."

Kyran blanched. "No, that's not possible! I made sure nobody could get through that tunnel without it collapsing on itself!"

Ghrim looked as implacable and level-headed as ever. "Yes, I know, your Highness, but apparently they dug her out…that, or they simply selected a new mother to lead in her stead."

Kyran grimaced and ran his hand over the top of his head. "So then…even burying her alive didn't do anything. What the hell can we do to stop these things? We can't kill the leader, but if we don't kill her, she'll just keep coming back…"

Suddenly, Kyran got a quizzical look on his face. "Wait a second. If you haven't been trying to kill the Mother or bury her…then what _have _you been doing?"

Ghrim seemed older even than his actual years as he spoke. "We…have held them off. Held them off…and hoped for a solution, one that seemed like it might never come. If the truth were to be told, I…I had started to lose faith that any help would ever come. But…to see that you've finally turned up…It makes me think that perhaps this is a sign of things to come! It gives me a measure of hope."

Kyran furrowed his eyebrows, and nodded slowly. "A measure of hope?" He looked up at Ghrim, a look of sudden calm on his face. "Yes…I'll fulfill that hope, Ghrim. We will destroy the daggermouths, I promise you that."

"I don't really think that's a promise you can keep all on your own, though, is it, Kyran?"

Surprised, Kyran looked over Ghrim's shoulder and saw the ten standing there, all in a row.

Ghrim turned around, and his eyes widened.

"You…seem to have gathered quite a following, your Highness. I'd imagine they're quite…combat-capable."

The young Victor Dororan, standing in the middle of the group, grinned.

"You'd best believe we're combat-capable!" he said, brimming with enthusiasm.

"But they're not the only ones who know a thing or two about brawling, are they, Kyran?" came another voice from behind the ten, plus Victor. This time, Ghrim let out an audible, if only barely so, gasp.

"But…you can't…you were…Princess Astrid! You're alive!" he said, his mouth wide open.

Astrid wore a feral smile on her face."Oh, that's right, Ghrim, I'm alive. Which means one thing. These daggermouths? They won't be for much longer."


End file.
